Factory Default
by Minibot Love
Summary: Wheeljack's inventions are almost as infamous as his explosions - and their aftermath. The bots get into a little trouble when things go wrong and will have to cope with their imposed R&R and their concerned and doting comrades. Sweet and Fluffy.
1. Starts with a Boom

A/N: Some minor slash, mostly in later chapters, nothing explicit and nothing inappropriate.

Disclaimer: Transformers and any recognizable characters belong to Hasbro and ... uh... Marvel and whoever else owns them but certainly not me.

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A spectacular bloom of smoke rolled out from the open doorway of the lab, doors lying mangled on the opposite side of the corridor. Ratchet rolled his optics even as he stumbled over the debris, rushing to get to Wheeljack's side and assess his injuries. "Frag it all, Wheeljack, can't we go a solid week without you blowing yourself up?!" Ratchet hollered over the faint noise of hissing, smoldering wreckage and sparking, crackling wires. A laugh, followed by a hoarse cough to clear clogged vents, allowed Ratchet to zero in on his target and he quickly knelt by the engineer's side, wiping soot away from Wheeljack's optics with a cleaning cloth.

"Aw, Ratch, you outta know me better than that by now," he chortled then coughed again. "Primus, that was a good one - very sparkly. Are smoke clouds considered an art form yet?"

Ratchet suppressed a grin, shaking his head. "Moronic glitch-head… I ought to just weld you permanently to a berth in the Medbay so that when you blow up, I already know where you are." Wheeljack giggled at the banter, relieved to know his injuries weren't _too_ serious. "Primus, but I hate shrapnel from your experiments - tiny little bits of Primus-only-knows-what stuck all in your chassis and Energon lines…" Wheeljack winced as Ratchet worked free a particularly spiky piece of debris, inspecting it suspiciously for a moment before discarding it into the rubble around them. "Anything acidic in this one that could start melting you from the inside, 'Jack?"

"Not that I recall, Ratch. Though with the heat from the explosion, who knows what sort of chemical changes could have been made."

"Very reassuring," the CMO muttered, turning to regard the doorway, waving an arm. "He's over here - still in one piece, remarkably enough, so let's get him to Medbay." Sideswipe scrambled over the wreckage in the lab while Sunstreaker stepped a bit more daintily over the rubble, shoving it out of the way with a ped to clear their path back. The red twin lay a friendly hand on Wheeljack's shoulder and squeezed lightly, smiling, "How's it goin', 'Jack? Great day to blow yourself up, huh? I think my horoscope said something to that effect this morning, but obviously I was reading yours by mistake."

Wheeljack chuckled, wincing a bit under the squeeze as little pieces of debris were pushed deeper into his plating. Sideswipe retracted his hand at the engineer's discomfort, moving to grasp him beneath his shoulders, Sunstreaker gathering up the mech's soot-covered legs with a grimace. "I'm sorry about this, fellas," Wheeljack started, wincing slightly as he was lifted. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything…_interesting_." His optics crinkled slightly at the corners, belying his grin beneath his blast mask. Sunstreaker barked a short laugh, "I wish."

Perceptor and Skyfire peered around the corner of the open doorway as they paraded past, the microscope mech reaching out to lightly pat Wheeljack's hand as they passed. "It is good to see that you are still conscious this time, Wheeljack."

Skyfire chuckled. "I give it a seven, seven and a half…"

"Oh come on, that was closer to eight and a half or nine - did you _see_ that smoke cloud? Very pretty." Wheeljack winced again when Ratchet thumped him over the helm. Explosions in the labs had long since devolved into some sort of spectator sport - extra points for fireworks, minus points for damage to yourself or others. So far, Wheeljack was both winning _and_ losing.

"Aw, _PRIMUS_, 'Jack, that's the last time Ah'm replacin' those doors, slag it all!" Ironhide stomped up to the little group, regarding the engineer dangling between the grasp of the Lamborghinis, fists planted firmly on his hips. "Ah am _not_ askin' Hoist to make ya another set. Make 'em yerself this time for the love of Primus! An' _good luck_ gettin' the parts for it!" The Weapons Specialist had dissolved into a rant, arms flailing theatrically, before he stomped over to the engineer and whacked him across the helm with a fist - much less gently than Ratchet's thump. Wheeljack whined piteously, "Have mercy, 'Hide, can't you wait until Ratchet fixes me before you rip me apart?"

"Ironhide! You make more work for me _again_ and I'll weld your hands to your aft!" Ratchet waved his toolkit about in much the same frantic manner one might chase pigeons from their perch, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the larger mech. Ironhide stumbled back from the CMO, growling but unwilling to take the confrontation any further - Ratchet had his tools and it was serious brig time, even for an officer, if he discharged his cannons in the hallway. Besides, who knew what was still lingering in the air around Wheeljack's lab that might spark another explosion?

Ratchet motioned for the twins to move on to the Medbay while he stood by, arguing with Ironhide to keep him at bay from further damaging the engineer. Once Ironhide stalked away in a huff and the other two scientists had retreated back to their own labs, Ratchet followed after the little parade.

"Ratchet, a moment, please…" Prowl caught him by the elbow as he stepped through the Medbay doors. "Is Wheeljack conscious? I need to go over the details of this week's destruction for my report as soon as possible - the fresher the memory files, the more concise the information, and the more quickly the unstable substance he was using _this time_ goes onto my contraband list."

Ratchet pinched Prowl's door wing, causing him to wince and arch at an awkward angle, basically dragging the tactician into the Medbay with him. "Yeah, he's conscious, talking - seems fine but for all the slagging shrapnel he got in him again." Ratchet regarded Prowl for a moment, optic ridge aloft. "Do you just keep a stack of blank 'Wheeljack blew up again' forms on standby? You responded awful fast…"

"Actually, I do. His behavior is predictable, at best, and he has a talent for causing more damage than either of the twins, Ironhide and Cliffjumper combined." His left optic clenched shut at the painful tug on his door. "If you please, Ratchet, I have other duties to tend to… and this hurts, as you well know…"

With a grunt, the CMO pulled Prowl further into the Medbay before releasing his grip on the monochrome door and giving him a light shove towards Wheeljack's berth. "There, go get your forms signed and get out of my bay."

Prowl stumbled at the push, catching himself on 'Jack's berth, muttering an apology when his frantic scrambling had landed on an injured leg panel, causing the damaged engineer to cringe, grunting softly in pain. He tossed a sour glance towards Ratchet who glowered darkly back at him. "Now, Wheeljack, shall we go over what happened?"

Ratchet set to work plucking debris from the engineer's chassis, pulling the majority out from his plating with a localized electromagnetic field, but carefully working it free from his Energon lines by hand, constantly scanning for missed pieces of scrap. A small piece of shrapnel in the lines could be fatal were it to get into the main pump. He judged the sensory damage of a particular area by Wheeljack's grunts and gasps of pain while he chatted almost casually with Prowl before the pad was held out for his signature. The Second-in-Command nodded to them both before pivoting on his heel and striding away. Drying his hands off on a nearby cloth, Ratchet sighed, "Alright, 'Jack, you're clear of debris. Your self-repairs should patch up the holes in your Energon lines - thankfully it seems to have avoided any major tears. Get some rest and we'll clean up your dents and paint a bit later."

Wheeljack sat up on the berth with a grimace, clutching his side. "Oooh, Primus, why does it hurt so much more when it's the little stuff than when I get blown across the room into the wall?"

"You just have a talent for that sort of thing, I suppose," Ratchet sighed again, turning to offer the slightest of smirks to the white and green bot. "Now, out. Go to your lab, go to your quarters, go wherever - just get out of my Medbay. You're not injured enough to be taking up space."

Wheeljack chuckled, "For once, huh?" and hopped off the berth, wincing at the quick movement before he shuffled away towards the door. "See you in a joor or so, Ratch."

Ratchet nodded, waving a disinterested hand in farewell as he set to cleaning up the berth and tools before retreating to his office for a cube, muttering about needing 'a stiff drink before dealing with more glitch-headed engineers'.

Shuffling slowly down the hall, Wheeljack ran a few self-diagnostics. The damage was superficial, his self-repairs had already set to work on most of them, and his plating only really needed to be buffed and repainted. Overall, he was fine, _just as Ratchet had said_, he mused, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was just… slightly off. In the back of his processor, he registered that he didn't feel quite _right_, but simply attributed it to an after-effect of being blown up yet again. The hallway in front of his lab was already cleared of the evidence of his destructive tendencies, save for the ever-present scorch marks on the wall from one of his more 'famous' explosions (that one had been a _doozy_ to explain to Prowl and he still wasn't sure what, exactly, had caused the chain reaction) and the smoke had dissipated into the air vents above his lab which were thrown wide open to clear the haze as soon and as thoroughly as possible. The open entryway to his lab was bright, the lights always the first to be fixed, and the shuffling peds of the mechs inside drew his attention around the frame. "Well hey, guys!" He waved to the trio sheepishly.

Trailbreaker chuckled, dumping his armful of scrap metal into its assigned bin. "Hey there, 'Jack. We were today's unlucky lotto winners for cleanup."

Wheeljack laughed softly, moving more fully into the lab. "Sorry about that, fellas. You know I don't _mean_ to cause such a mess, right?"

"We know, 'Jack," Hound grinned, trying to lift a particularly large piece of sheet metal, glancing briefly around to try to locate its origin - probably the ceiling or one of the wall panels, though he couldn't pinpoint any missing. "Admittedly, it's pretty funny when you don't actually hurt yourself." 'Jack grabbed the other end of the panel and helped Hound steer it into its place. "Plus, it makes recovery faster this way - just sort it out and let you go through it later. Nothing gets lost and you find all your pieces." He paused to chuckle, planting a friendly hand on the engineer's shoulder, causing him to wince slightly at the over-sensitive receptors in his dented plating. "We find more fingers this way so Ratchet doesn't have to make new ones."

Wheeljack's headfins glowed an embarrassed, pale pink. "I really appreciate the help, though. It'd take forever to clean this up myself - though I never meant for Prowl to make it _mandatory_…"

Cliffjumper grunted, kicking at a particularly stubborn piece of rubble. "Well that's Prowl for you - volunteers only exist if they're forced to exist."

"We're about done here, just going to sweep up a bit and set the bins by your work bench," Trailbreaker declared, glancing around the room. "Most of it was either big pieces or tiny little shards of glass and plastic that I don't think you could use anyway - burnt up bits of rubber and such. Why don't you go rest, I'm sure Ratchet told you to. We'll handle the rest of it."

Wheeljack sighed, "I feel guilty leaving you guys to do it on your own."

"Nah, we're almost done. Nothing really major this time - you didn't even dent the walls." Hound chuckled again, waving a hand around vaguely towards the soot-covered but mostly intact wall panels. "Don't worry about it."

"But I…"

"For the love of Primus, 'Jack!" Cliffjumper threw a coil of burned tubing at him, causing him to jump back. "I'm not going to let Ratchet come in here and find you cleaning when you should be recharging, because it'll be ME that he blames it on! Now get out!"

"Oh, Cliffjumper, I think that's an exaggeration--"

"OUT!" A good-sized piece of twisted steel was retrieved from one of the bins and thrown towards the retreating form of the resident 'Mad Scientist'. Hound and Trailbreaker chortled softly at the sound of Wheeljack fleeing down the hall from the scowling minibot.

---------

Ratchet slumped in his desk chair, swirling the last dregs of his small cube of high-grade about before he downed it in a single gulp and settled the empty cube onto the desk with a sigh. _Say what you will about their home-brew_, he mused, _those twins keep the whole base stocked with a vital resource_. He stood, wobbled, and sat down again, shuttering and unshuttering his optics in rapid succession. _Though maybe this batch was a bit too strong…_ He stood again, gripping the edges of his desk for leverage, his knees wobbling beneath him. Ratchet put a hand to his forehead, grimacing slightly as he straightened and strode slowly into the main Medbay, hoping the buzz from his drink wore off soon - it simply wouldn't do for the CMO to be staggering drunkenly around the bay to work on his patients.

First Aid looked up from his datapad, visor lighting up as he hopped to his feet and rushed to Ratchet's wobbly side. "Sir! Are you alright?"

Ratchet waved him off brusquely then placed that hand back against his forehead. "Yeah, I'm fine… Just… if I faint, don't tell Prowl I was drinking on shift, alright?"

He couldn't be entirely sure, but Ratchet was fairly certain that the small Protectobot was scowling at him under his facemask. "Ratchet, Sir! You're an officer, a senior member of this crew! You know better than to go against protocol and then you ask me to _lie_ about it?"

"Not lie, just don't bring it up if he doesn't ask. What Prowl doesn't know, Red Alert will tell him later…" Ratchet grumbled as he staggered to a berth and gripped it for a moment before turning to sit down. "Ugh, strong stuff…I can usually hold more than a single cube." He clenched his optic shutters, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his thighs with a soft groan. "And if I deactivate from this, do me a favor and weld the twins to the ceiling…" He pressed a hand to his abdomen as his tanks lurched uncomfortably, groaning miserably. "Primus…That hit fast…" He staggered to his feet, stumbling towards the sink. "I need… need to…"

Suddenly his optics dimmed and First Aid offered up a cry of alarm as the larger medic's frame sunk suddenly to the floor with a noisy clatter. "Ratchet!" The smaller bot struggled to turn the CMO onto his back, running a series of scans over his frame. His core temperature was elevated, his fuel pump was racing, pulsing rapidly away in his chestplates, and his spark was flaring in small increments of energy. A rarely-heard swear fell from the timid Protectobot's vocalizer as he struggled with the larger frame. With little to go on for clues, he opened his comm. link.

_::First Aid to Sideswipe!::_

_ ::Sideswipe here. What do you want?::_

_ ::WHAT IN THE NAME OF PRIMUS DID YOU PUT IN THAT HIGH GRADE?!::_

_ ::…What?::_

_ ::Ratchet had a cube of your wretched home-brew in his office and then he FAINTED right on the Medbay floor! Either get in here and _help me_ with him or tell me what you put in that slag that could have done this to him!::_

_ ::Drinking on shift? Huh… that's not like him. I guess we're rubbing off on him a bit.:: _ Sideswipe's response was smug, far more smug than First Aid would have cared for, especially considering the circumstances, causing an optic shutter to twitch in irritation.

_::He's _your_ Bondmate and he's hurt! GET YOUR AFT IN HERE NOW!::_

_ ::Alright, alright, I'm…I'm on… my way…oh, Primus…:: _ Sideswipe sounded nearly breathless and more than a little woozy just before the line filled with static. Panicked suddenly, fearing an outbreak of poison Energon around base, First Aid changed tactics. _::First Aid to Prowl!::_

_ ::Prowl here, go ahead, First Aid.::_

_ ::Ratchet's unconscious, Sideswipe may be as well! There might be tainted high-grade going around the _Ark_!::_

_ ::Do you know the source?:: _ Prowl's voice was tense - Jazz had a knack for procuring high-grade from questionable sources, including 'confiscating' the twins' stash. If his Bondmate were to come to harm from such a thing… Well, the resident tactician had a lesser-mentioned reputation for being an Avatar of Unicron himself when Jazz was in Medbay for the stupidity of others.

_ ::If I had to guess, I'd say the twins' home brewed stuff. Ratchet had a cube and then he fainted right on the floor and…:: _

_ ::And you say Sideswipe may also be unconscious?::_

_ ::I was summoning him to Medbay and his comm. went dead.::_

_ ::I'll be there momentarily, but first I'm going to send someone to check on Sideswipe and … and collect Sunstreaker…:: _Prowl made a soft noise of pain over the comm. before he could restrain it. _::I… I will be there… sh-shortly…:: _

_ ::Prowl! Are you okay?::_

_ ::I…:: _First Aid didn't bother to muffle his fearful little cry as Prowl's comm. filled with static the same way Sideswipe's had.

_::Jazz! Jazz! Please be okay!::_

_ ::Jazz 'ere, First Aid - Sorry but I'm a lil' busy, somethin's wrong with Prowler. I'm headin' to his office right now.::_

_ ::I know! I know! There's bad Energon on base!:: _

_ ::Ya know where it's comin' from?::_

_ ::I think the twins had a bad batch of home-brew! First Ratchet, then Sideswipe, now Prowl! This could be very bad, Jazz!::_

The comm. was silent for a moment before Jazz spoke up again, _::I don' think Prowler's 'ad a cube o' high-grade in the better part o' two months, 'Aid…Y'know 'e ain't one fer casual drinkin'…::_

_ ::B-but… Ratchet fainted right after he drank some of the twins' brew… And Sideswipe … and…::_

_ ::Ratch is down too? Primus. I'll be there wit' Prowl shortly, 'Aid. Jazz out.::_

"Oh Primus, Ratchet," First Aid set a trembling hand on his mentor's shoulder, squeezing it for a moment. "Please be okay… I… I don't know what's wrong…"

_::Mirage to First Aid.::_

_ ::First Aid here…::_

_ ::I can't get a hold of Ratchet - there's a medical situation in the Rec Room. Sunstreaker and Hound are both unconscious.::_

First Aid gripped his helm with both hands, swearing profusely. _::Did they drink any high-grade?::_

_ ::Well, Sunstreaker, yes, always, but Hound was about to go on patrol. He hasn't had a cube of high-grade since the last party a few weeks ago.::_

_ ::I… I'll be right there.:: _ 'Aid whimpered slightly, running another scan over Ratchet's prone form. His core temperature had stopped rising, but his spark was flaring more rapidly now, his fuel pump pulsing so fast that the small medic worried it might burst a valve. _::Perceptor! Skyfire! Please come in!::_

_ ::We're here, 'Aid, are you okay?:: _Skyfire's friendly voice did little to soothe the anxious medibot.

_ ::I need you to come to Medbay immediately! Ratchet is unconscious and there's a medical situation in the Rec Room!::_

_ ::Go ahead, we'll be there in two kliks. Skyfire out.::_

"You'll be okay, Ratchet," First Aid patted the unconscious CMO comfortingly again, though he seemed to be trying to reassure himself more than the larger bot. "You'll be okay, and I'll be right back…" The smaller mech grabbed his tool kit and a scanner, darting from the Medbay.

The Rec Room was bustling with concerned bots trying to revive their companions - puddles of water lay beneath both prone forms mixed with spilled amounts of mid-grade Energon. Trailbreaker was lightly shaking Hound by the shoulders, patting at his faceplates, trying to get a reaction out of him, while Silverbolt was struggling to pull the heavy, unconscious frontliner to his feet in hopes that the elevation change might bring him back online. First Aid shouldered his way past the onlookers, stumbling as he dropped to the floor next to them, shuffling hopelessly, cluelessly, through his tool kit for inspiration. "What were they doing before they went offline?" He ran a series of scans over both forms, comparing the results to one another, and then to Ratchet's. Elevated core temperatures, racing fuel pumps, spark flares… the flares were mild enough to not be in danger of extinguishing, but any flare was cause for concern.

Mirage wrung out a cloth over Hound's face, splashing him with cold water again - a human remedy Spike had used on his father more than once that had evolved into an annoying prank on recharging bots. "He was just getting a cube from the dispenser, he didn't even drink it! All of the sudden he's dizzy and then he's nauseated and he just collapsed!"

"What about Sunstreaker?" First Aid jacked into an outlet on the back of Hound's neck, checking for irregularities in his coding.

"Nobody really pays much mind to when Sunstreaker goes offline after drinking high-grade, 'Aid…" Trailbreaker muttered, sliding an arm beneath Hound's knees and hefting him up bridal-style, Mirage uttering softly for Trailbreaker to take good care of him. First Aid groaned softly, unplugging his unsuccessful diagnostic from Hound's neck. "Get them to the Medbay. They're not the only ones…"

Skyfire looked considerably more panicked than he had sounded on the comm. line when First Aid returned to the Medbay with the other bots in tow. "Thank Primus, 'Aid! I don't know what to do! I've never seen this before!"

"What?!" The little medic squeaked fearfully, a dozen horrid scenarios flashing through his processor, unbidden. "What happened?!"

"Ratchet - he's… he's…" Skyfire's hands waved about as though trying to pluck an explanation out the air. "He's a _sparkling_!"

First Aid froze, so did the bots with him putting their charges on the berths. "Wh-what…?"

"He… He turned into a _sparkling_! Prowl too! And Perceptor's fallen unconscious!"

"Sparklings? But… but that's impossible!"

Skyfire grabbed the small Protectobot by the arm, hauling him quickly into one of the private exam rooms, thoroughly startling Jazz who had been waiting inside. On the berth, cuddled quietly against one another, were two small sparklings, one white and red, the other black and white. First Aid stared, dumbstruck, and twitched as a logic relay burnt out in his processor. "But… it's… not possible…"

"Obviously it is, because it happened!" Skyfire was nearly as frantic as the medic, waving his arms about, wincing when he smacked his wrist on a ceiling panel. "Look at them! What could have caused this?!"

"I… I… What are you asking _me_ for?! You're a scientist, you deal with… with quantum physics and dimensional shifts! I'm just a medic! This is … this is _far_ outside of my line of study!" The little bot's voice had risen to a panicked squeaking, his whole frame trembling. He rushed out into the main Medbay, pushing the conscious bots towards the doors. "Out! Out! I can't take the risk of any more casualties! If it's contagious, you could all be in danger!" They started to protest but First Aid had already locked the doors and turned to lean against them, vents hissing as he gasped for breath. "Oh, Primus, I'm going to go into spark-arrest at this rate…"

Jazz peeked his head out from the exam room, visor glowing a muted blue, "Gotta tell ya, 'Aid, I don' think it was th' Energon…"

"Not helping! Where's Perceptor?" First Aid rushed between the private rooms, emitting a little despairing squeak when he lay optic on the small, offlined form of a sparkling Perceptor. He carefully lifted him up, whimpering a bit, and placed him on the same berth with Prowl and Ratchet. "What do we do? Who… who else will be effected? Where's Sideswipe?"

_::Cliffjumper to First Aid…:: _ The medic cringed as his comm. crackled to life again.

_::Y-yes, Cliffjumper…?::_

_ ::I… you need to come down to the training room…::_

_ ::Who is it?::_

_ ::Ironhide's unconscious in here - it looks like he and Sideswipe must have really had it out this time…::_

_ ::I'll be right there…:: _First Aid buried his face in both hands, trembling. "What do I do what do I do…"

Whirling suddenly, the smaller bot grabbed Skyfire by the forearm, tugging him insistently. "I need your help, I can't haul Ironhide and Sideswipe in here on my own."

Skyfire glanced around at the unconscious bots and then nodded, hurrying to the door. "You stay here, I'll fetch them both." He ducked through the doorway and set off jogging down the corridor, causing the plating of the floor to tremble just slightly - far more subtly than Grimlock's rampaging despite being the bigger bot. First Aid emitted a hopeless little whimper, looking between Jazz's worried gaze and the unconscious forms on the berths. "Sweet Primus, what's happening…?"


	2. Assessing the Damage

"For the love of _Primus_, I can do it myself!" Ratchet snatched the scanner from First Aid with both hands, wobbling unsteadily for a moment beneath the unexpected weight of an instrument he was so accustomed to using on a daily basis without thought to the mass of it. "I don't need you hovering over me like this!"

"Now, now, Ratchet," Sideswipe tsked softly, wagging a small black finger, "If you don't behave, 'Aid'll put you down for a nap."

The mini-medic snarled at Sideswipe and staggered under the weight of his scanner, pondering the likelihood that he could throw it far enough to make contact with the red twin at all, much less do any damage to him. "Shut up!"

First Aid gazed about at the collected bots - seven small sparklings rested on a single berth in the Medbay in varying states of panic or despair. The CMO's normally rough voice squeaked with the pitch of his grumping, the soft, rounded features of his face plates more expressive than the straighter lines of his adult form, cheeks flushed pink from the exertion of yelling and ranting. The twins were cuddled together, seemingly calm with the change, Sideswipe dangling his feet casually from the berth while Sunstreaker inspected the pudgy, malleable form of his legs and arms with his nose wrinkled in distaste. Perceptor was a little thinner than the rest, but also a little smaller, currently working on finding a way down from the berth they were marooned atop of. Hound kept prodding at his own slightly rounded abdomen, transfixed unhappily on the chubbiness of the protoform beneath his plating.

The worry of poisoned Energon had been alleviated - the dispenser had been checked thoroughly, as well as the twins' stashes of high-grade and the quantities in possession by other mechs (inspected off-the-record, out of Prowl's line of sight), none of the other bots on base were showing any symptoms of being affected like the sparklings, nor had all the affected bots drank the same Energon at even roughly the same time. They had compared stories, and the only thing they could seem to agree on was that at some point in the day they had seen Wheeljack after the explosion. Hound protested this being the cause, as neither Trailbreaker nor Cliffjumper were showing any symptoms, and Perceptor quickly echoed his defense, stating that Skyfire had been with him when he had seen the engineer. But with little else to go on and no other consistent variables, they had labeled it as "something to do with Wheeljack."

Jazz settled Prowl onto his knees, bouncing him softly. The expression on the small tactician's face was wavering somewhere between fritzing a circuit and breaking down in tears. "I… I have work to do… I can still sign forms, sort and organize…I can…"

"Now, Prowler, those pads're nearly as big as ya are. Y'ain't gonna be able to do much work."

"But… but… I… I _need_ to do them! I need to do _something_! I… I can't just… just _sit_ here and…!" Jazz placed his hand carefully over Prowl's mouth before he could dissolve into a rant, or worse, a tantrum. Ratchet just snorted at them. "You can and you will," he stated firmly, having settled his scanner onto the berth to point a finger at the quivering tactician. "There's no way you can work in this condition, and so I'd say it's about time you took that vacation I'm always harping at you about."

"Ah… Ratchet…" First Aid started softly. Ratchet ignored him, arms flailing about dramatically. "And if you can't very well calm the frag down and let me _work_, then this is never going to get fixed and you'll have to spend the next twenty vorns or so physically maturing all over again and won't that be just _peachy_?!"

"An' are ya gonna be takin' yer own prescription, there, doc?" Jazz cuddled Prowl close to his chestplates, the tiny black and white bot seemingly in some sort of daze. "Everybot knows ya don' take good 'nuff care o' yerself 'less somebody forces ya to."

Ratchet snorted through his vents, folding pudgy arms over his chestplates. "Of course not! Like always, _I'm_ the one that has to fix this mess!"

"Ratchet…?" 'Aid tried again, gently tapping him on the shoulder. The miniaturized CMO whirled around, scowling at the Protectobot, fists planted firmly on his hips. "_What_?!"

First Aid's voice lowered further, uncertain. "I… I think you should probably take your own advice. You can't work like this."

Ratchet seemed to freeze for a moment and First Aid worried that he'd fried a logic relay before the tiny medic recovered with an angry snarl. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN'T WORK LIKE THIS?!" The Protectobot cringed under the shrill pitch of Ratchet's incredulous shriek. "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, TELLING ME THAT! I'M THE CHIEF MEDICAL OFFICER OF THIS BASE AND--"

"In your current condition," he started again, softly, calmly, though he quivered under the scrutiny of the angry medic's glare, "it's my opinion as the acting Senior Medic that you're unfit for duty until further notice."

"_SENIOR_ Medic?!" Ratchet stared at him, mouth agape, then looked down at himself, prodding at his rounded, pudgy sparkling body as though seeing it for the first time. Wide optics fixed on First Aid, face plates morphing through a slew of emotional responses: anger, betrayal, fear, defeat, panic, anger, panic, rage, panic; finally settling into a gaze of desperation, fixed firmly on the adult medic hovering over him. "No… No, no, no, no, no, you can't do this! I… I… You _need_ me for this, you can't just…!"

"Between Wheeljack, myself, Hoist, Grapple and Skyfire, I'm certain we can find a solution while you and Perceptor are… eh…'inconvenienced'."

Tiny red hands scrabbled for purchase on the comparatively massive arm. "No! No, 'Aid, please, you can't do this to me…!" Ratchet's vents heaved desperately, true fear in his optics. First Aid gently pried his grip free of his arm and settled him onto the berth on his rump. "I'm sorry, Ratchet, but I have to."

Ratchet gawked openly as the Protectobot collected the scanner from the berth and moved away, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find something to say, something to change his mind, but nothing came, and after a moment his resolve seemed to shatter completely as he threw himself onto his belly on the medical berth and began to wail, hands gripping his helm, face buried against the berth's surface. Sideswipe scooted over to sit next to him, rubbing soothingly at his spinal struts while the mini-medic's shoulders heaved with the force of his sobs. Sunstreaker padded over and flopped down on his opposite side, carefully working his hands underneath the small red and white bot's prone form and maneuvering him up until he could sit pressed into golden chestplates, hiccupping and sobbing noisily into Sunstreaker's neck. The brothers cuddled Ratchet between them until his cries tapered off into gentle hiccups and the occasional soft hitching of his vents, small black hands stroking soothingly over helm and back plating.

Prowl quivered slightly in Jazz's arms, huddling closer against warm chestplates. "This does not bode well at all…"

"WHEELJACK!" Ratchet shrieked suddenly, tears still coursing down his faceplates in a steady stream, "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU FOR THIS!" Sunstreaker and Sideswipe both struggled to restrain the smaller sparkling, his bout of self-pity having swiftly moved into righteous fury. "I AM GOING TO DEACTIVATE YOU, DISMANTLE YOU, SMELT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU INTO A PAPERWEIGHT FOR PRIME'S DESK! DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU ARE A DEAD MECH, 'JACK! SWEAR TO PRIMUS, YOU'RE GOING TO SUFFER FOR THIS ONE!"

"Woah, Ratchet," Sideswipe clung to both his legs to keep him from leaping off the berth to try and throttle the full-grown engineer. "Settle down or 'Aid really _will_ put you down for a nap - possibly with tranquilizers."

Ever the subtle problem-solver, Sunstreaker frowned darkly at the screeching medic, gave him a shove onto his back on the berth, and sat heavily on his abdomen. Ratchet writhed, kicking and flailing for a moment, but just as quickly as his rage had appeared, it dissipated from his systems, leaving only exhaustion and a sense of despair in its wake.

"So what do we do in the meantime, 'Aid?" Hound queried softly, dangling his legs from the edge of the berth. "We're still us, in the processors, so we're not going to get into too much trouble on base, but we can't really reach door controls, or even the Energon dispenser; and there's too many of us to just hang out in Medbay until it blows over."

First Aid hummed thoughtfully, gazing over the small group. Sunstreaker was still sitting on Ratchet, who no longer struggled, but the golden twin didn't seem to be taking any chances; Sideswipe was tenderly patting the back of the small medic's hand in some vaguely comforting manner. Prowl had all but tucked himself completely underneath Jazz's chin, doorwings aquiver, optics glassy. Perceptor was apparently using his new size to investigate the dust bunnies he found under some shelving on the far side of the medbay, and Ironhide was futilely trying to activate his transformation sequence to bring his cannons to his arms. "Well…" he started hesitantly, frowning beneath his facemask, "Hound can stay with Mirage, Prowl can stay with Jazz… Ironhide could possibly stay with Prime." Ironhide's head snapped up, looking a little embarrassed by the suggestion.

"As much as I loathe the notion of being henpecked to death by some overbearing caretaker," Prowl poked Jazz meaningfully in the chest, "I suggest a rotating group of volunteers to… oh I don't know, run errands for us, between shifts. Since you're not allowing us to do our work ourselves, _someone_ has to do it."

First Aid planted his hands on his hips, visor fixed on the tiny tactician. "Prowl, your work will get done. Don't worry about it. Don't think about it, don't talk about it. As of now, you're on medical leave of duty, and if I have to dump you into a… a… what did Carly call it… a 'playpen' in Prime's office to keep you out of trouble, don't think I won't."

Prowl glowered at the threat, but First Aid seemed nonplussed by the gaze. "Though, your suggestion does have merit. Volunteers to watch after you between shifts while your mates are away, make sure you're fed and clean and recharging properly…"

"'Aaaaaiiid," Ironhide groaned. "We're full-grown mechs; we can take care of ourselves, y'know. We don't need no fraggin' babysitters."

"I beg to differ. Your emotional subroutines are obviously imbalanced, judging by Ratchet and Prowl's little fits, and are possibly compromising your ability to tell between right and wrong, meaning you're more likely to get yourselves into trouble, or into danger. Furthermore, we're still not sure entirely _how_ this happened, or how much it will effect, and you should be watched for further signs of regression. What if your processors started to catch up to your chassis and you were all alone?" First Aid hefted Perceptor into his arms, who gave a startled, undignified squeal at suddenly being airborne before he was deposited back onto the berth with the other six bots, looking a bit frazzled by the experience. "Besides, this is a chance for you all to relax. Don't worry about work, or the war, or anything. Just… take the opportunity to be kids again. Pretend, have some fun. Go pelt Hot Spot with water balloons." His visor brightened a bit at the thought, followed by a hint of a chuckle.

Ratchet sighed heavily. "You want us to act like Sideswipe?"

Jazz smirked, giving Prowl a little squeeze. "I get what yer sayin', 'Aid. I think da only bots 'coulda benefitted more from a break like dis would be Red Alert an' Prime 'imself."

Prowl pushed himself forcefully away from the saboteur's chestplates. "This isn't all fun and games, Jazz! We're at a serious disadvantage here! If the Decepticons find out about our 'conditions', we'll all be in grave danger!"

"Aw, Prowler, settle down." Jazz kissed his tiny nose and Prowl blushed brightly, shyly twisting his head away. First Aid offered a pensive hum, running a few more scans over Prowl. "How's your battle computer acting? Is it still online?"

Prowl's optics dimmed momentarily from his self-diagnostic. "It's online but… my emotional subroutines seemed to have re-routed themselves to prioritize over my logic centers…" He groaned, hiding his face against Jazz's chestplates. "It may as well be offline, for all the good it does me now."

"Ya don' need it right now, Prowler. Jus' take some time ta relax, will ya?" Slender fingers hooked beneath Prowl's chin to tilt his head back to gaze at Jazz's visor. Another kiss was placed on heated little faceplates, then another, gentle lips catching at cheeks and chin, nose and neck cables, playfully nipping at an audio receptor until Prowl was thoroughly blushed, twisting to hide his face from the attack and to hide the shy smile that graced his lips. "Dat's better," Jazz chuckled, rubbing carefully between fluttering little doorwings, grin smug.

"So who's gonna tell Prahm?" Ironhide kicked his peds nervously against the berth's edge. "Ah ain't gonna go down thar an' tell 'im mahself."

"I've already summoned Prime and Mirage to come to Medbay. I'll explain it to them, and then send you off with your respective caretakers for refuel and recharge."

"Well, then, who's Ratchet and us staying with?" Sideswipe frowned at First Aid, scooting protectively closer to the little white medic, almost on top of him so only his tiny peds poked out from the pile of sparkling Lamborghinis.

"Beachcomber has volunteered to watch over you, stating he can keep you under observation and give notes to the team working on repairing the situation."

Sunstreaker's optic shutter twitched slightly. "You're… leaving us with a minibot?"

"Oh come on, Sunshine, Beachcomber's not bad. It'd be like if Bumblebee were doing it, only a little more _mellooooow_." Sideswipe wobbled his hand back and forth slightly in the air. Sunstreaker offered a soft grunt, but didn't complain any further.

"If it makes you feel better, Bumblebee offered to help him. It's a little unfair to leave him with three of you, even if you _are_ still fully grown in your processors." First Aid paused, considering. "_Especially_ if you three are still fully grown in your processors…"

The other sparklings snickered and giggled softly; Ratchet grumbled, Sunstreaker glared, and Sideswipe stuck his glossa out at First Aid. The group quieted immediately, all optics fixed on the door as Prime strode into the Medbay, flanked closely by Mirage who, catching sight of his sparkling-mate, froze and stood staring with wide optics.

"Thank you for coming, Sir," Prowl started, trying to wiggle free of Jazz's cuddling embrace. "There has been… an incident."

Jazz's grip only tightened, intent on keeping hold of the tiny tactician, and annoying the slag out of him in the process was a pleasant bonus. First Aid stepped forward quickly, scanner and datapad in either hand, looking frazzled under the Prime's calm gaze. "We're not sure exactly what has happened, but you may recall an explosion in Wheeljack's lab earlier today…"

Optimus sighed heavily, shoulders slumping ever-so-slightly. "Wheeljack…"

"Well, we're still working on the reasoning behind these… effects, but hopefully I can offer you some peace of mind in the fact that they are only sparklings in body; their adult processors, personality matrixes, memory files, are all still intact."

Optimus gazed around at the berth's occupants, seven little sparklings (plus Jazz) all crammed together. When his gaze caught on Ironhide, the corners of his optics crinkled slightly in amusement, though his voice remained steady. "So this is what you were referring to when you asked of my relationship with Ironhide." First Aid's visor brightened, then looked quickly away to the floor, embarrassed. "He and I have been very close friends since we were both younglings - long before I was Prime. It will be no problem to care for him in his time of need." Ironhide groaned softly, the sound muffled by his hands covering his face. Optimus couldn't restrain a chuckle, moving towards the berth and gathering the little red mech into his arms. Ironhide refused to meet his gaze, instead glowering at First Aid, blaming him for his embarrassment and silently promising retribution. First Aid wilted slightly under the dark gaze from the Weapons Specialist.

"Sir, I must protest," Prowl started again, legs flailing in the air, unable to gain purchase against Jazz's armor to push himself away. The saboteur snickered at the smaller bot's distressed squirming. "As the Prime, you have far too many responsibilities to have the luxury of taking time out to watch over sparklings and--"

"Don't worry so much, Prowl." Optimus chuckled again, cuddling the increasingly mortified Ironhide against his chestplates. "All the paperwork will get done."

"But… but you have _meetings_ - diplomats, liaisons, things that require your physical presence and full attention!"

"All things that can be rescheduled and nothing for another couple of weeks." Large blue fingers hooked under a heated little faceplate, drawing Ironhide's head up for a better inspection. Optimus chuckled softly again; not mocking, but just amused by his friend's embarrassment at being held so. Unable to help teasing, that same blue finger tickled lightly under the sparkling's chin and Ironhide groaned, pressing his face back into his own hands. "Prahm, please…"

Prowl's optic shutter twitched, doorwings quivering. "_Optimus_, Sir, you cannot simply shirk your responsibilities because of--"

"Well if there was ever a time to shirk, I think having my Second-in-Command unable to harp at me to stay on schedule would be the ideal time to do so." Jazz snickered louder at Prowl's indignant glower towards the Prime. "Oh, settle down, Prowl. Like I said, the paperwork will get done; all the red tape and bureaucracy will be handled in an orderly and timely fashion." He moved on to gaze at the other sparklings, gauging how well they were taking their 'transformation'. Perceptor seemed completely fascinated by the whole ordeal, inspecting his own arm and fingers with his microscope lens; Hound was waving shyly at Mirage who still hadn't moved from where he'd frozen in the doorway; Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, for the most part, seemed to be taking it well, but hovered over the distraught Ratchet like he might break apart. Optimus settled his palm on Ratchet's helm and rubbed slowly, trying to offer some comfort to the little CMO. Ratchet's gaze lifted from where he'd been staring blankly at the berth, shifting up towards Optimus hopelessly. Prime nodded towards the Lamborghini brothers. "Take good care of him, boys."

They saluted smartly, expressions serious. "Yes, Sir."

"Mirage, shall we get them settled in?" Prime's deep rumble seemed to wake the noble from his trance, quickly moving to the berth and similarly gathering Hound into his arms. The small jeep nestled against Mirage's chest, gazing up at his mate with concern at the spy's continued daze. Optimus nodded to First Aid and the rest of the sparklings, turning to place a hand on Mirage's shoulder and steer him out of the Medbay. Murmuring a good night to Prime, Mirage strode off towards his quarters, eyes fixed firmly in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line, though they quivered slightly. Hound worried that he might cry, and nestled close to his throat. "Mirage…? Mirage, it's okay…"

He punched in the code to his door with perhaps a little more force than necessary, seeming rushed, and quickly locked it behind him before he held Hound out at arm's length to inspect him. A blush crept to the noble's faceplates and he emitted a strange, shrill sound that, after a quick internet search, Hound could only label as a 'squee', and crushed the little jeep to his chestplates in an overzealous hug. "Oh, Primus, _you're so CUTE_!"

More than a little confused by the reaction, Hound gazed up at Mirage with wide optics. "…Are you alright?"

"I'm alright, I'm fine - I'm just… Oh, _Hound_, you're so _adorable_ like this! Look at you!" Held out at arm's length again, Hound kicked his dangling feet nervously, wondering if Mirage had blown a logic circuit on the walk to their quarters. "Look at that tiny little nose, pudgy little fingers, those big, round optics!" Mirage stared at Hound adoringly, gleefully, before he settled him onto the berth on his back, rubbing softly over his abdominal plating. "I always sort of thought you were just an overgrown sparkling, but I never imagined you'd be so cute as one! Just look at that round little abdomen…" Hound laughed as the caressing fingers tickled briefly over his plating.

"M-Mirage, are you sure you're okay? I've never seen you like this!"

The noble blinked, and sat on the berth next to Hound, staring at the wall for a moment. "You're right… This isn't dignified at all." He cycled a deep intake of air before looking back to Hound and clearing his vocalizer. "I'm sorry, Hound, I didn't mean to frighten you." His expression softened, adoring smile blooming quickly on his faceplates again. "Oh, but it's been so long since I've seen sparklings… I've never told you just how much I adore them - I had worried you'd want to try to spark one in the middle of the war. And now you're like my little Hound Puppy…" he chuckled, face plates flushed pink again, arms darting out to gather the mini-scout back into his tight embrace. Hound laughed, incredulously, at his Bondmate's unexpected reaction to his change in form. "Well that's a relief. I was worried your CPU had crashed the way you froze in the Medbay…"

"Well, I will admit that I was surprised," he started, settling Hound onto his lap, gently tracing the lines of a familiar helm, now miniaturized, "but, honestly, the first thought I had wasn't that you had been shrunk, or turned into a sparkling, but that you had carried a new spark and had refrained from telling me. When First Aid explained what had happened," he paused to chuckle, "I thought I would fry a circuit right there. I did not want to embarrass you or myself in front of everyone with that little display of mine." His cheeks flushed a little more pink, shaking his head slightly with a smile.

Hound laughed softly, imagining the looks that would have earned - calm, serious, noble Mirage squealing and cuddling all the sparkling bots like a gestating femme. He was almost certain Prowl would have suffered a crash in his logic systems that he wouldn't soon recover from, not to mention Mirage's reputation would have been shot to the Pit.

"Now," Mirage started again, his blush having receded from his faceplates and seeming overall much calmer now that the initial shock had worn off, "First Aid said refuel and then recharge. Would you like to venture to the Rec Room for your dinner, or would you rather me bring it back to you?" Hound tensed at the thought of going into the Rec Room in his current form, passed back and forth between bots who, like Mirage, hadn't seen sparklings in centuries and were desperate for the strange sort of reassurance that cuddling one, even a temporary one, would bring. "I think, for tonight, I'll stay here…"

-------------

Ironhide grumbled irritably, squirming against Optimus's shoulder. "Wouldja getchur big ole slaggin' hand _off_ mah aft, Prahm?!"

Optimus laughed softly, shifting the red sparkling in his grasp to lay cradled in the crook of his arm. "Better?"

"No!" Ironhide kicked lightly, struggling to get free, but the Prime's large hand on his belly held him securely on his back, limbs flailing uselessly. "Lemme down, Prahm! This ain't dignified in tha least!"

"Now, 'Hide," he crooned, the corners of his optics crinkled up in amusement, barely keeping himself from laughing at the indignant glower of the Weapons Specialist, "fussy little bots go straight to berth without refuel."

Ironhide stilled in his arms, and his faceplates furrowed into a glare so dark that Optimus wondered, briefly, if he could channel it to scare off Ratchet during maintenance checks. "You… are a dead mech, Optimus, Prahm or no Prahm."

Optimus laughed softly, tapping the code to his door and stepping inside, locking the door behind him before he set Ironhide down on his feet on the floor. Resting his hands on his hips, he gazed down at the diminutive form of his friend, retracting his battle mask to grin at the angry little sparkling. Ironhide had seen him without his mask more than a few times over the millennia, and he had always felt there was no need to hide himself in the presence of his dear friend. "And how do you propose to do that, 'Hide?"

"Ah'll find a way, Prahm, don'tchu worry none 'bout that…"

Chuckling, Optimus lowered himself to sit on the floor, more on-level with Ironhide than towering above him. "There's no reason to be embarrassed, Ironhide. We've been friends for a very long time, haven't we?"

Shifting uncomfortably under the friendly gaze, 'Hide stared at the floor, unwilling to look the bigger bot in the optics. "Yeah… yeah we have."

"And were it me in your position, there's no one I'd trust more to keep me from harm's way than you, old friend. I hope you can trust me in the same way…"

Ironhide sighed, all anger and resolve leaving him in a huff, shoulders slumping suddenly. "Ah, Prahm… Yah know I trust yah. T'ain't nobody Ah'd rather stand b'side or take a hit fer inna fight than you, yah know."

The Autobot leader smiled affectionately, stroking a massive palm over the tiny red helm. "That means a lot to me, Ironhide, my friend. It really does." Then his smile morphed into a grin, mischievous and slightly evil. "But don't think I won't tease you relentlessly over this, because I _know_ if it were me, I'd never hear the end of it from you."

Ironhide stomped his little foot indignantly. "Yer an evil, evil mech, Optimus Prahm!"

Optimus laughed aloud, wrapping both arms around his midsection at the squeaky little whine. Slumping against the door, his mirth receded into giggles, then softer chuckles as he brought himself back under control. Ironhide stared at the floor miserably, looking for all the world like he was about to break down in tears; at the sight, the bigger bot's mirth vanished and he leaned forward to pick up the small frame, drawing him against his chestplates, resting the small helm over his spark. Ironhide's vents hitched and the little figure trembled in the large, protective arms that squeezed just slightly around him, trying desperately to swallow the lump of scrap caught in his throat as his optics filled up with cleanser fluid, quickly spilling over down his face. He tried to pull himself under control, tried to stop the flow of tears, to choke back the sob that forced its way out of his voice module, strangled and rough, but large fingers began to stroke over his helm and back, comforting him, and the deep, baritone rumble overhead broke his resolve completely, "It's okay, Ironhide. It's safe to cry…"

The red mech wailed, small fingers grasping desperately at Optimus's plating as he sobbed roughly against his chest, shoulders heaving and vents hissing with the effort to pull in air to cool his rapidly heating systems. Soothing motions on his back continued through his tears until he calmed, vents hitching quietly, and turned his head upward to regard Optimus, faceplates flushed bright pink and thoroughly dampened. The larger mech smiled, soft and affectionate, reassuringly down at his friend before pulling him up closer, pressing his head gently to lie on a broad red shoulder, engine rumbling slowly, the faint vibrations soothing the sparkling. "It's alright to cry, Ironhide…"

Ironhide gave a short, mirthless laugh, scrubbing his optics against that familiar shoulder. "An' how many times have Ah said that to yah myself, Prahm?"

Optimus chuckled softly. "Enough. Enough times that one of these days I might actually listen to you."

Ironhide grinned, offering a short, soft chuckle and then grew quiet again, relaxing beneath the gentle hand massaging his back. Optimus shifted a bit, pushing himself to his feet without dislodging the sparkling from his resting place, and paced towards the berth. "First Aid said you needed to refuel before recharge time - shall we get a few cubes?" At the lack of response he twisted his head to try to see the small Weapons Specialist. "'Hide?" Curled against his shoulder, lulled by the soft rumbling of his engine, the little red mech had dropped swiftly into a deep, peaceful recharge cycle.

---------

"Jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazz…!" The little black and white mech whined miserably, pounding on the locked door of their quarters with open palms. "I have _work_ to do! Let me ooooooooout!"

"Nothin' doin', Prowler - no work fer ya t'night. Yer gonna have yer cube an' then straight ta berth with ya." Jazz grinned at Prowl's piteous little gaze, amused by how cute the tiny tactician could be when he thought he would get his way, but Jazz was resolute - he'd been trying to get Prowl to take Ratchet's advice for vorns and if locking him in his quarters when he wasn't tall enough to reach the door locks was what it took to do it, well then, slag it all, that's what he was going to do.

"But… but…" For the third time that cycle, those wide optics filled to the brim with cleanser, just enough to be pitiful, not enough to break the surface tension and fall. Too much time around Daniel, Jazz mused, resulting in those 'crocodile tears', as Carly called them. "Jazz, _please_!"

The saboteur shook his head, scooping up the sparkling Prowl, tossing him lightly into the air a few times before drawing him close to his chest, cuddling him softly. "What am I gonna do witcha, Prowler?" A single fingertip rubbed firmly against the hinges of the fluttering little doorwings, Jazz's grin turning smug when Prowl fairly melted against his chestplates, tiny engine purring happily. Settling back onto the berth, propped up against the wall, Jazz lifted the Energon cube from the small table by the berth, shifting Prowl to settle cradled in his arm. "Now, time ta refuel."

Prowl shook himself a bit as he came out of his comfortable lull, glowering at the glowing pink cube of Energon. He huffed, folding his arms over his chest, and twisted his head away defiantly. "I will not until you let me go to my office."

Jazz rolled his optics behind his visor, smirking at some unspoken joke. "Are ya gonna make me getcha a bottle like a human baby?"

Prowl blushed darkly, glaring at the larger black and white mech from the corner of his optics. "You wouldn't dare…"

Jazz grinned. "Try me. I've done worse."

Prowl squirmed fitfully. "I won't do it! I won't, I won't, I won't! Not until you let me work! I have to write up the duty roster, I have to put out the memo for volunteers, I have to--"

"Ya 'ave ta follow doctor's orders, Prowler. Drink yer cube." Jazz pushed the Energon towards him insistently. Prowl glared, doorwings tilting angrily behind him, and slapped the cube from Jazz's hand so it spilled across the berth, rolling onto the floor with a noisy clatter. Jazz frowned at the little black and white mech on his lap. "Prowl!"

"No!" The tactician writhed, kicking and slapping at the large hands trying to restrain him. "Slag it all, Jazz, let me out!"

"Alrigh', yer askin' for it, Prowler," Jazz wagged a finger at the little Datsun, scowling. His only response was sharp little denta barely missing their target as he jerked his hand away. Jazz swiftly tossed Prowl belly-down across his thigh, holding him in place with a hand on his back settled between his doors. "I'm warnin' ya now, Prowl, ya keep fussin' like this, yer gonna get a spankin'."

"Jazz!" he squeaked indignantly, horrified by the knowledge that his Bondmate actually _would_ carry out his threat, but for a decidedly different purpose than usual. "You… you wouldn't dare!"

"Any more fuss from ya and yer goin' ta berth with a sore skidplate, Prowl." That finger wagged in front of the sparkling's nose again and he restrained himself from the urge to bite it. "Now," he shifted Prowl back into the crook of his arm, picking up the second cube from the table that had been intended as his _own_ dinner, keeping a firmer grip on it than the first one. "Drink yer Energon."

Prowl scowled, taking a small sip from the cube before shoving it forcefully away. "There! _Now_ will you let me go to my office?!"

Jazz sighed. "Ya got a one-code processor, there, Prowler." He set the cube onto the side table again, hefting the small mech against his shoulder. "If ya won't drink yer dinner, yer goin' straight to berth, lil' mech."

"NO!" Prowl kicked, squirmed, thrashed and started to cry. "Jazz this isn't fair! I am _not_ a sparkling! I am a full-grown mech and I demand that--"

"Aw, Prowler, lookit yerself," he crooned, startling the little bot into stillness. Gentle fingertips wiped away the tears that had been freely flowing before. "Yer cryin' over somethin' so silly…like it or not, yer in no shape to go work, an' I don' mean that jus' in yer physical form - yer emotional subroutines are all outta gear." He laid the little tactician on his back against the berth, carefully spreading out his doors to lie comfortably. Cuddling up next to him, Jazz sighed, tenderly rubbing Prowl's chest and abdominal plating, trailing gentle fingers over his door panels and pudgy little arms. "Jes' settle down, love - nothin' to get s'worked up over. C'mon, deep intakes - calm down, don' cry." Jazz pressed a soft kiss to Prowl's helm, nuzzling his nose gently against his cheek. Prowl returned his affections with a swift kick to his neck cables.

Hissing a curse, Jazz plucked Prowl up by the offending foot and held him, upside-down, to scowl at. "That's it, lil' mech, ya've 'ad yer chance." Prowl simply struggled, fists swinging wildly, until Jazz tossed him over his knee and firmly swatted his backside. The small bot yelped, kicking and cursing, which only brought another hard smack onto his aft. Despite his struggles, shrieks and swears, the smaller mech couldn't escape the saboteur's firm grasp, and a few more sharp blows found the normally stoic mech in miserable tears, chestplates heaving, his whole frame trembling. Jazz sighed, lifting the weeping little form into his arms once more as he lay down on the berth, cuddling Prowl close. "'M sorry, Prowler, butcha had it comin', y'know…I did warn ya…" The only reply he got was another bout of hard, noisy sobs, tiny fists pressed tight against his optics. Jazz rubbed soothing circles over shivering plating, until the cries tapered off into whimpers and soft hitching of his vents, optics dimming as he dropped off into recharge.

"Prowler…" Jazz sighed, feeling sick to his tanks with guilt at having made the little tactician cry. "Nothin' for it, I guess. Hope ya feel better in tha mornin', love…" He pressed a kiss to tear-streaked faceplates and cuddled Prowl close to his chest, resting the tiny helm against his spark, before cycling down for recharge himself.

-----------

"Perceptor, what are you doing?" First Aid called over his shoulder, having caught sight of the little scientist crawling along the floor, searching underneath the shelving and berths.

"Given my new size, I am searching for possible specimens of arachnids that may have made residency within the _Ark_ which I have not previously had the opportunity to study." The response was slightly muffled, his head completely beneath a cabinet, pressed to the floor to wiggle further underneath.

First Aid chuckled softly, closing up the panel on Inferno's arm that he had been repairing. "Sorry, Perceptor, but I don't think you'll find many spiders in Medbay."

"True, I believe Medbay is far too sterile for their liking - the bright lights and lack of food sources. Well then, I shall seek them out elsewhere!" He squirmed free of his confinement and trotted quickly to the door. When it didn't open, he looked towards First Aid expectantly. "If you would be so kind, First Aid - I believe I may have success in seeking them out within my own laboratory. There are many shadowed places for them to nest and given the nature of some of my experiments, perhaps they have even found adequate food to sustain them."

Inferno shook his head, chuckling, while First Aid turned to regard the sparkling. "Perceptor… I told you earlier that no one is to go to their offices or labs. You're on medical leave now - no working."

"This is hardly 'working', First Aid," Perceptor replied with a small, indignant huff. "The pursuit of scientific knowledge is the very essence of my function - it is the most relaxing and enjoyable pastime available to me."

First Aid planted his hands on his hips, trying to look stern, but the visor and mask that obscured his face made it a little difficult. "Perceptor, no. You're going to have your Energon, and then you're going into recharge."

"Oh it is _far_ too early in the cycle to even think about recharge, my dear First Aid. My time can be better spent st--"

"Perceptor!" First Aid shook a disapproving finger at him. "These are Doctor's Orders, you will not disobey them."

Inferno laid a comforting hand on 'Aid's arm, patting gently. "Obviously yah can't keep him in the Medbay…"

'Aid sighed, shoulders slumping. "No… I knew keeping Ratchet here would drive him to distraction, but I thought I could at least watch after Perceptor. Primus, he's worse than Ratchet and Wheeljack both sometimes about getting out of that lab and taking care of himself."

The fire truck shook his head, chuckling. "I know. How 'bout yah let me an' Red watch him fer yah?"

First Aid mulled over the suggestion for a moment, regarding Perceptor's increasingly grumpy little pout directed his way at not coming to open the door for the little scientist. "That's very kind of you, Inferno. Are you sure you can handle him? Remember, he's only a sparkling in body, but he's still fully-grown in his processor." Another glance towards the pouting sparkling; First Aid grinned. "Which means he can be very demanding when he doesn't get his way."

Inferno chuckled again, nodding. "Oh yeah, ain't never had no bad oil between me and Percy. It won't be a problem."

First Aid's visor lit happily and he patted Inferno's arm panels as an 'all clear' while he began cleaning up. "Just make sure he drinks a full cube before going to recharge. Especially if he's retained all his functional analysis programs - Primus knows he'll be inspecting everything from the dust to the material of the berth itself."

Inferno nodded and turned to Perceptor, hands on his hips, big friendly smile in place. "Alright, Percy, yer gonna be stayin' with me and Red." He knelt down on one knee, opening his arms out for the little scientist.

Perceptor regarded him for a moment before turning back to the locked Medbay doors. "Yes, I understand that, but really, there's no reason for such strict supervision. As First Aid has stated several times I still retain the processor of a grown mech and am perfectly capable of taking care of myse-ELF." Perceptor emitted a little squeak of surprise as he was lifted swiftly around his waist into Inferno's arms.

The large red mech just smiled at Perceptor, chuckling softly as he palmed open the door and strode out into the hall. "I know, Percy, I know, but Doctor's Orders, after all…Let's get yah settled in fer tonight, an' then I'll go try to wrangle that Bondmate of mine away from his monitors." Once a fair distance away from the Medbay doors, Inferno leaned down in a conspiring whisper, "Y'know, there might be a coupla spiders in my quarters, Percy. Yah can have 'em if you want 'em."

Perceptor's optics brightened slightly at that and his grumpy pout dissipated as he relaxed in Inferno's arms. "That's very kind of you, Inferno. I shall let you know immediately the breed and gender of the specimens when I find them. But first…" Perceptor wiggled a little, seeming slightly embarrassed, "…my fuel tanks _are_ rather low… perhaps a short excursion to the Energon dispenser is in order?"

Inferno grinned, nodding to the sparkling scientist as he veered towards the Rec Room. "Sure thing, Percy. I hope yah ain't opposed to gettin' cuddled by the crew - yah make a pretty cute lil' sparkling."

Perceptor blushed, optics brightening in surprise at the thought. "Oh dear… well… I've never been terribly social or tactile with other mechs before…"

"Aw, don't worry, Percy. They're gonna love yah."

* * *

A/N: I HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR MIRAGE ACTING LIKE THIS. (at least, I _hope_ it's a good reason...) BUT ALSO BECAUSE THE THOUGHT OF HIS FANGIRLY SQUEALS AMUSE ME.


	3. Meanwhile: Wheeljack

A/N: Kinda short chapter. After my stumbling headlong into oblivion in the last chapter, I had to shuffle some things around plot-wise for explanation, meaning some things are going to be happening sooner than I had expected them to and may slightly delay later chapters that will have to be revised. Please disregard the obvious attempts to cover my tracks.

* * *

"I'm relieved that you were unharmed, Wheeljack." Skyfire shuffled his way carefully into the lab, eyeing the door's frame momentarily as he eased his wings through, turning slightly to avoid scraping them. "I can only imagine why you've been hiding in your lab this whole time, though. First Aid was rather worried when you wouldn't answer your comm. line."

The engineer turned to regard Skyfire with dim optics, obviously in need of rest. "I turned it off so Ratchet would stop pinging me to make me go to my quarters and recharge. When I turned it back on, I had such a backlog of messages from First Aid that I went to check on him…and a tiny Ratchet tried to kill me. And you know you've watched too many human movies when your first assumption is that tiny little demons are taking the forms of your friends and running around trying to kill you. So," he sighed, pushing himself away from his work bench, "since he seemed to have everything under control by that point - nobody leaking or missing any limbs, no hideous mutations or half-smelted chassis - he just sent me right back out of the bay because my presence was 'apparently causing Ratchet to engage in bouts of extreme depression and violence'. I thought I would mollify him by getting to work…"

Skyfire paused a moment, mulling over his explanation. "When, exactly, did you watch 'Army of Darkness'?"

"Apparently the twins have a thing for 'cult films'. When did _you_ watch it to even know what I was talking about?"

The shuttle shrugged bashfully, shuffling his feet a bit. "I uh… don't remember exactly when."

"Well, that's neither here nor there, I guess," Wheeljack sighed. He pushed himself to his feet, staggering a bit as he moved towards a secondary table cluttered with datapads, blueprints and star charts.

"When was the last time you recharged, 'Jack? Or had a cube of Energon?" Skyfire moved to his side, ready to catch him if he toppled over, and briefly scanned the charts tacked down to the table surface.

The engineer offered a gentle shrug. "Just before the explosion; I've been trying to come up with _something_ to tell Ratchet that will make him stop wanting to turn me into a paperweight. We've been friends for quite some time, so I know very well how to gauge when it's medics' banter and when it's a serious threat." He shuffled the charts and pads around, shaking his head. "I've got nothing. No records of cosmic phenomenon ever resulting in spontaneous regression, no records of bacterial substances that are reactive to our protoform compounds in such a manner, no nothing. I've scanned myself, taken the scans from First Aid to study, searched through all the medical texts and theory data I could find, scoured cosmic records for any abnormalities that occurred close enough to us to have been the cause… I can't find _anything_, Skyfire!" Wheeljack slapped his palms onto the table's surface, leaning heavily against it as he sighed, shaking his head. "I have to come up with something… the longer we go without even a hypothesis to follow, the more unsettled and anxious everyone will become - and then there's the questions of 'what if it keeps happening' and 'what if it gets worse'. We cannot afford to delay this…if the Decepticons were to find out…"

Skyfire shuffled a few of the pads thoughtfully. "Most of our warriors are still functioning at full capacity - if the Decepticons were to attack, I'm certain we would not be completely defenseless."

"Yes, but our _best_ warriors don't even reach my knee joints. And they hardly get past _your_ ankles!" Wheeljack flapped his arms in frustration, the quick movement sending his equilibrium spiraling away into the darkness of space in his fatigued state. He scrambled to grasp the table's edge, sending a shower of datapads and charts to the floor before his searching hands landed on a thick white arm to steady him. Wheeljack winced slightly at the stinging sensation the contact caused, the sudden jolt of pain running from his spinal support straight down his arm and out his fingertips like a bolt of lightning, swiftly pulling his hand back to inspect it, optics narrowed as he ran three different scans and a self-diagnostic which all came up with negative results. He hummed, pensive, and touched Skyfire's arm carefully once more. When no pain was present the second time, he flattened his palm on the larger mech's forearm, lifted it, and touched again. "Huh…"

"Is something wrong, 'Jack?" Skyfire gazed down at him as he lifted him back to his feet, slightly concerned at his odd behavior, and glanced nervously at his own plating that Wheeljack was touching so strangely.

"I don't guess so… probably just some static discharge. Did you feel anything when I touched you?"

Skyfire grinned and then snickered slightly. "Sorry, 'Jack, you're not my type." He received a playful shove that did nothing to even budge the shuttle's large frame. "I didn't feel any static."

"Strange…" Wheeljack inspected his fingers again, running the thumb of his free hand thoughtfully along the bottom edge of his blast mask. "I wonder what it was…"

"You should rest." Skyfire steered him back towards the chair by his workbench by both shoulders. "You're going to go into stasis lock at this rate and then Ratchet will be _really_ peeved."

The engineer chuckled a bit, rubbing his face again as he sunk down into his seat. "I can just hear it now - squeaky little growl and all: 'You fragging glitch-headed son of a half-smelted motherboard!'" Skyfire covered his mouth to stifle his giggles at Wheeljack's falsetto. "'Why, I outta slag you right now. Just tie you up in a box and dump you on Megatron's doorstep - let you be THEIR problem from now on! Go blow up _their_ base and actually be _useful_ for once, you half-processed pile of unfinished coding!' Oh Primus, I'd love to see it, but I'd hate the aftermath."

Skyfire chuckled, resting his hip against Wheeljack's workbench. "Perhaps Perceptor has a theory, having first-hand experience to his condition?"

"Last time I tried to contact Perceptor he was giving me a compiled list of all the different types of debris that had collected into the 'dust bunny' under the Medbay shelving and trying to pinpoint the source of origin of each component and offer a theory of how it made it to the Medbay in the first place."

"I'll take that as a 'no', then, shall I? Let me get you a cube, you're ready to offline right there." Skyfire went to stand, only to stagger slightly and lean back against the bench for support. He pressed a hand to his forehead, blinking several times before standing again. "Oof… I think my gyroscope needs to be recalibrated."

'Jack looked up to the shuttle as he stumbled back a second time into his work bench, jolting the heavy piece of furniture so hard that it slid a few meters with the impact. He hopped to his feet, rushing to try to steady the larger bot. "Primus, Skyfire, are you okay?"

The shuttle clenched his optic shutters, scrubbing at his face roughly. "I… I don't know. Perhaps my systems are more in need of maintenance than I thought… It could just be a virus… they tend to go around about this time of the stellar cycle." Skyfire groaned softly, rubbing more insistently at his head. "Or, maybe I'm dying - I'm not sure."

'Jack hovered worryingly at his side, pulling at his arm to get him to stand. "Let's take you to Medbay, see if First Aid will run an anti-viral program through your systems…" His grip tightened on the massive limb as it slumped, seeming to lose the strength to stay aloft. "C'mon, First Aid will be gentle, I swear." He tugged again, optics brightening a little further as worry fed a newfound wealth of energy into his circuits. "Skyfire…?"

The shuttle groaned again, his vents hissing as his intakes cycled faster. "Wh-Wheeljack… I… think something's… very wrong." Though by no means a medic, Wheeljack's scans were invasive enough to tell him what he feared: Elevated core temperature, rapidly pulsing pump, minor spark flares - Skyfire was twice as big as the other mechs, but his size only seemed to be a minor deterrent to his deteriorating health.

"You're showing the same symptoms as the others…" 'Jack cringed, shaking his head mournfully. "But this doesn't… what could be causing this? What is there in common? You were with Perceptor but he… It wouldn't have taken this long to affect you from the explosion! It would have to be--" Wheeljack stopped himself, twitching faintly from the forceful blow of realization, the kind of impact that only came from completely overlooking the obvious. Perceptor's friendly pat on the hand, Ironhide's angered clunk on the head, Ratchet's repairs… All the bots had touched him. He had felt that flare of pain every time he came into contact with one of the other mechs.

As the larger mech's optics dimmed and the huge frame began to swoon, Wheeljack's optics lit with sudden understanding. "It's a virus…" he breathed softly, then gasped as the full implications hit him. "Oh Primus, it's a virus! And… and I'm the carrier!" Skyfire's knees buckled and his bulk began to sag; Wheeljack struggled under the shuttle's weight to ease him gently down to the floor as he offlined. "Skyfire! Oh, Primus, I'm so sorry!" He stepped back from his fallen comrade, shaking his head in despair. "I'm a menace to the crew - I'll infect everyone that gets close to me…!" He scrambled about his lab, shoving necessary supplies into his subspace compartment even as he opened up his comm. link - scanners, datapads, unfinished projects to pick apart for spare components should he need them, as well as the small bin of odds and ends from the explosion, still yet to be sorted through.

_ ::Wheeljack to First Aid! Medical Emergency in the labs! Skyfire's been infected, he's now unconscious, and I'm going into immediate quarantine - no one is to touch or come near me, understood? There is a viral infection on board the _Ark_ that I think is causing the transformations of the mechs into sparklings! And I'm carrying the virus!::_

_ ::Primus, Wheeljack, I'm on my way. How can you be sure you're the carrier?::_

_ ::It must be transferred through my energy field - whenever someone touches me, the virus infects their systems. That's my only hypothesis now, but Skyfire's not shown any symptoms of infection until he was staying in my lab. I touched his arm and less than a cycle later he's nauseated and dizzy, then he collapsed. It has to be me! It has to have originated in the explosion!::_

_ ::Wheeljack, please come to the Medbay with me - I can try to--::_

_ ::NO! First Aid, if you touch me, if you even get close enough for your energy field to mingle with mine, it could transfer into you! With Ratchet already infected, you're the only true medic we have - we _need_ you kept safe!:: _

_ ::I… I understand. But I don't have to be happy about it!::_

_ ::Heh…:: _Wheeljack's chuckle across the comm. was tense but sincere, offering the slightest of relief to the young bot on the other end. _::Ratchet really _is_ rubbing off on you. Keep up the good work, Kid.::_

'Jack knelt by the unconscious bot for a moment, offering a friendly pat. "Primus willing, we'll get through this alive, Skyfire. Don't give up on me, okay?" He moved quickly away into a secondary part of his lab - a much smaller room with little more than an emergency wash station and a single monitor and chair - and locked the door, taking the added precaution of sealing it shut with a welding torch. Once satisfied, Wheeljack slumped down into the chair, cradling his helm in his palms, offering up a mournful sigh to the empty room.

By the time First Aid had reached the labs, Skyfire had already changed, curled up on the floor where he had fallen and the faint scent of scorched metal lingered in the air. The medic knelt by the fallen shuttle, stroking tenderly along the sleeping bot's helm, glancing over him in a quick inspection before gathering him into his arms. "Goodness," he gasped softly at the sheer heft of the sparkling. "You're quite the chunky little fellow, Skyfire…" The sparkling was considerably larger than the others had been - even more than twice the size of some of the smaller mechs like Ratchet or Perceptor - filling out his frame with bulky arms and thick legs ending with strangely small and delicate hands and peds. First Aid cradled the small bot close to his chest with a sigh, glancing towards the door where the faint black marks marred the edges of the frame and wispy smoke still curled idly about the ceiling, before turning on his heel to head back to Medbay with his newest patient. "I hope you take this better than Ratchet did, Skyfire…"


	4. The Morning After

A/N: And this will conclude the daily updates until I actually figure out what's happening in the next chapter. Might take me a coupla days. Thanks so much for the favs, alerts and reviews thus far - like most writers, I thrive on feedback of any kind, so the past few days have just left me absolutely giddy.

_**THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU**_

* * *

Ratchet groaned softly as he came online, sighing in relief at the familiar sensation of a body to either side of his frame, warm arms wrapped tight around him. _Just a dream…_ A relieved sigh followed the thought. _Just a bad line of coding, a glitched memory file… _He forced open his optic shutters, turning his sleepy gaze to his berthmates, and froze solid in their grasp; sensing his discomfort, Sunstreaker onlined behind him, the golden twin's embrace tightening protectively around his waist. "Easy, Ratchet… It's okay…"

Ratchet trembled, twisting to regard Sunstreaker's youthful features, wide optics and soft, rounded cheeks and chin, before he twisted away, burying his face into the berth, whimpering, "No, no, no… it's not true… it's not happening… it was a bad file…"

Sideswipe stirred beside him, pressing tender kisses along his helm and neck. "It's alright, Ratch… You're safe with us…"

A strangled sob escaped the tiny CMO, fingers clenched into a quivering fist. "This _isn't_ happening!" His morose tirade was cut off at the pass by large hands sliding beneath him, pulling him up against blue and silver chestplates. Beachcomber's gentle rumbling voice reverberated through the plating as he sang some old Cybertronian ditty meant for sparklings in the nursery, not quite a lullaby but not very far from it, sending little tremors through the small chassis pressed against his chest. The vibrations were soothing, sending pleasant tingles over Ratchet's sensory network and he relaxed some, his trembling coming to a halt, though he continued his hiccupping sobs.

"Easy there, man, you're okay." Beachcomber shifted him in his arms, forcing the little red helm up to look him optic-to-visor. "It's okay, Ratch, don't be scared."

Ratchet offered up a whimper, scrubbing his optics against the silver chestplates. "I… I can't… do anything like this… I'm completely useless and they've relieved me of duty and…!"

Beachcomber shushed him softly, patting his back plating before he lowered him back to the berth, kneeling beside the trio to tenderly rub Ratchet's abdomen. "S'alright, Ratch, just take it easy. This isn't any different than the time you got that bad virus in your system and you were confined to your quarters for a week. Do you remember? Sunny wouldn't let anyone even near your door, man, he growled and glared and chased off anybody that tried to disturb you," he paused to chuckle, "and those unfortunate enough to be trying to pass by."

Ratchet's lips twitched up in a shaky little smirk, glancing at Sunstreaker whose optics were fixed on the wall by the berth as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world, faceplates slightly flushed. "Yeah… I remember… Sideswipe started using my own threats against me…actually tried to bolt me down to the berth to keep me out of Medbay. He would have done it too, I think, if I hadn't been purging my tanks every bream or so." He sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Ugh, swear to Primus that was the most miserable week of my entire function - but this may just surpass it."

Beachcomber offered a soft laugh, brushing away the last of the little medic's tears with a careful thumb. "I dunno, man, you might learn some stuff about yourself from this experience. Think of it as an imposed meditation - get in touch with your inner sparkling."

Ratchet huffed lightly. "My inner sparkling is currently my _outer_ sparkling, Beachcomber…"

Undeterred by the medic's grump, Beachcomber only grinned. "You know what I mean, Ratch - take back some of that lost innocence the war's taken from all of us. Have some fun, like First Aid said - I dare you to play 'tag' with Sunny and Sides."

"Yeah, Ratch, play with us!" Sides poked at him insistently, grinning. Ratchet fended him off, smiling a little more sincerely now, "Like you've ever been anything _but_ an overgrown sparkling, Sideswipe."

Sunstreaker snickered. "You're the one that bonded to us."

"And there are days I wonder why…" Ratchet lifted an optic ridge at Sunstreaker who pouted sullenly in response. Ratchet smiled, reaching to tug him close against his side for a hug. "I never said I regretted it, though." The golden mech nuzzled his face into Ratchet's neck with a happy little sigh, black fingers trailing idly down his back. Ratchet jumped slightly, startled, when those fingers grazed his aft and Sunstreaker offered a lecherous grin that unsettled the little CMO with how out of place it seemed on those youthful faceplates.

"Sunny, I doubt your body is capable of even producing the emotion of 'lust' right now," Sides quipped, hauling Ratchet away protectively. "And even if it could - wow, that's _so_ wrong." Soft, reassuring kisses were planted on the little white chevron, small arms wrapping possessively around him. "Don't worry, Ratch, I won't let that scary ole Sunstreaker get you."

"I wouldn't do anything inappropriate…" Sunstreaker whined, expression twisting into something that was almost, but not quite, a sulky pout. "You're not… really scared of me, right, Ratch…?"

Ratchet offered his arms out to the golden twin, smiling reassuringly. "Come here… I've never been scared of you before, why would I start now?"

The three mechs twitched at the chime of the door - it seemed far louder than normal - turning wide optics towards Beachcomber as he went to answer it. Bumblebee poked his head around the frame, expression morphing into a brilliant grin before he eased fully into the room. "Oooooh, Primus, they're so little now…!" Ratchet stared sulkily at the berth while Sunstreaker glared, halfheartedly, at the yellow minibot. Bumblebee giggled, putting his hands up, palms outward, to fend off the glower. "Sorry, guys, I can't help it. I'm used to being the tiny one around here, you know."

Beachcomber chuckled, turning to the trio. "You guys hungry? It's about time for a cube, I think."

Bumblebee tensed at the suggestion. "Eheh…" The yellow minibot's nervous chuckle did not fill Ratchet with confidence, he decided. "P-perhaps a picnic would be nice? It's a lovely day outside, after all…"

"Are you trying to keep us out of the Rec Room?" Sideswipe regarded Bumblebee with one optic narrowed in suspicion.

'Bee glanced away from the group, rubbing nervously at the cables in the back of his neck. "Well… yes… See, Inferno brought Perceptor to the Rec Room last night and now… everybody knows about your … eh… 'illness'. And so, some of the other minibots are uh… writing up rules for their upcoming 'Toss the Lamborghini' tournament." Bumblebee cringed slightly as he finished.

"WHAT?!" Sunstreaker's incredulous shriek was accompanied by a dark scowl at the fidgeting minibots. "What for?! Who do they think they are?!"

"It's karma, man," Beachcomber offered, shrugging. "You toss _us_ around, pretty soon somebody bigger's going to come along and toss _you_ around."

Ratchet sighed heavily. "If I wasn't worried about how much damage they'd take, and I'm comparing that directly to the amount of damage _I've fixed_ from games of 'Toss the Minibot', I'd say go ahead and throw them to the wolves. But, seeing as how we're not currently in peak physical condition, I'm going to have to agree with Bumblebee's suggestion of avoiding the Rec Room and the other minibots."

Bumblebee smiled nervously, pulling a small wicker basket out of his subspace. "I've already got the cubes ready to go. So… Picnic?"

-------

Ironhide dragged himself online, systems slowly, _slowly_ booting up, optic shutters remaining stubbornly closed. He was far more comfortable than he could remember being in quite some time, snuggled close against a warm, rumbling heat source, struts being carefully massaged. With a yawn, he finally stretched his arms over his head, twisting onto his back beneath the large hand caressing him, blinking slowly up at the blue appendage before he balked, startled, at the sheer massive size of it. The plating beneath him rumbled harder, shaking as Optimus's deep chuckle reverberated through his chest. The previous night's memory files came rushing to the forefront of his processor and Ironhide groaned deeply, burying his face against Prime's chest. "It wasn't a dream…"

"Wasn't a dream," Optimus echoed, shaking his head, then chuckled again. "You're quite the cuddler, 'Hide - I never would have guessed." The red sparkling's indignant glare at him made Prime chuckle even harder. "Oh, come on, don't give me that look or I'll have to do something drastic and make you blush again."

Ironhide regarded him warily, scooting a little further down the large chassis to slide onto the berth. "Like what…?"

Optimus grinned, reaching out to grab Ironhide about his waist before he could go tumbling off the edge. "Like give you a big kiss on the cheek or something. I haven't really settled on anything in particular yet."

Ironhide blushed darkly at the notion, quickly looking away towards the wall. Optimus laughed a bit, drawing him close. "Well that worked better than I thought. I didn't even have to carry out my evil scheme." He laughed a little harder when Ironhide delivered a swift kick to his chestplates.

"Ah hope yah know whatcha want 'scribed on yer memorial, Prahm…" Ironhide folded his arms firmly across his chest with a pout. Optimus grinned at the threat that was _so intimidating_ coming from the soft little voice of a sparkling, especially with such a thick, drawling accent. Large blue fingers drew Ironhide higher on his chest, pulling his helm gently down to plant that promised kiss on his cheek. The amount of heat radiating from the round little faceplates had Prime worrying for a moment if 'Hide's internal cooling systems were damaged, but then the sparkling sputtered indignantly, arms flailing about as he emitted an embarrassed whine, "PRAAAAAHM!"

"I think my destruction will be well worth the look on your face right now, 'Hide," Optimus laughed.

--

Ironhide settled sulkily onto the surface of Optimus's desk, offering a heavy, exaggerated sigh in lieu of actively voicing his displeasure, unwilling to physically remove the human female from his frame in fear of injuring her, even in his diminutive form - sparklings were notorious, he recalled, for not knowing their own strength when it came to handling delicate objects.

Carly was emitting such shrill noises that neither Ironhide nor Optimus were quite certain she was still trying to form words anymore. The little red mech sent a pleading gaze towards Prime as Carly babbled and cooed, wincing at the little squeeze to his faceplates. Optimus, for his credit, wasn't laughing, but the trembling of his chest and shoulders was not very reassuring that he would last much longer.

"Carly," Ironhide began.

"AWWW HE STILL KNOWS MY NAME!" The red sparkling winced at the pitch of the adoring squeal. "And that accent of his! He's so _CUTE_!" Slightly smaller than the human femme, Ironhide let out a 'whuff' as the air was knocked from his intakes by the tackling hug embracing him like an overgrown stuffed toy.

"C-Carly," he tried again, wheezing. "Ah ain't lost mah mem'ry, y'know, jes' mah height advantage." He squirmed a little under the enthusiastic cuddle. "Please leggo 'a me."

Immediately he was released, the blonde woman taking a few steps back, hands placed purposely behind her and slightly flushed as though she had been caught sneaking goodies from Jazz's desk (again - for the fourth time. One would think she'd learn to not take bets from the minibots). "Oh, Ironhide, I'm sorry. It's just a shock, is all, seeing you like this…" She giggled. "I always wondered what robot babies looked like, I just never expected you'd be quite so chubby!"

Ironhide twitched slightly. "Didja jes' call me 'fat'?" He narrowed an optic at her and vaguely registered Optimus's snort of failed restraint somewhere behind him.

"I… I uh… absolutely did not. Babies are always… uh… cuddly." The blonde's face was red, teeth tugging at her bottom lip.

Ironhide directed a decidedly sad stare up at Optimus. "She… she called meh 'fat', Prahm…!"

"Oh, Ironhide, I… I didn't _mean_ it!" Carly rushed forward, worried, and began gently dabbing away the cleanser that had worked itself free from 'Hide's optics. Ironhide blinked, surprised by its presence, and tried to reign in the sudden quivering of his bottom lip. _Slaggin' emotional programs fraggin' up my hard-aft reputation…_ The human femme cradled Ironhide's head against her chest, shushing him softly as she stroked over the little Spartan comb on his helm. "I didn't mean it, Ironhide, I'm sorry… Please don't cry, sweetie."

Sensing an opportunity for escape, 'Hide wondered how much more damage his reputation would take if he broke down in a full-blown tantrum on the desk - kicking, screaming, throwing stuff, the works; but at the worried, motherly expression on Carly's face he could only sigh and allow himself to be subjected to the human's coddling.

Optimus's large fingers gripped him delicately by the top of his back plating - an area that had few pain receptors, allowing sparklings to be toted about and comforted by the 'scruff' of their neck - and drew him up towards that familiar red shoulder again, tucking a hand under his rump for support. "I apologize, Carly - I should have better briefed you on his condition. The changes made to his physical form have set his emotional subroutines on high priority, making him very moody and easily sent into episodes of depression." Blue hands obscured Ironhide's tiny form almost completely from sight, rubbing tenderly along his back

"I understand, Optimus. Ironhide, I didn't mean to upset you, sweetie - I'm sorry…" 'Hide peered down at the femme from over Prime's fingers, nestling closer to his neck cabling as he offered a slight, embarrassed shrug. "S'alright, Carly, y'know Ah norm'ly wouldn't react like this…"

Decidedly reassured, Carly giggled again. "Oh but you're just so cute like this! Optimus, set him down for a moment, I want to take some measurements."

"Measurements?" Ironhide felt that nagging little voice in the back of his processor pleading for attention at the ominous statement.

"Oh just for something I'd like to make for you…" He felt even less comforted by the grin she wore - though it was friendly and welcoming, there was an undertone to it that seemed, he decided, less than wholesome. Her purse was hefted up from its resting place on the desk - an oversized bag that could be compared to the packs used by mountain hikers - and pulled open. From what he could recall, she had upgraded to the massive tote some time around Daniel's birth, stating it was a 'status symbol' of her motherhood to carry such a hefty and cumbersome object. Her arm disappeared up to the elbow inside of it as she dug momentarily before producing a small, yellow and black coil. "Aha, here it is. Alright, 'Hide, hold your arms out at your sides."

Glancing pleadingly towards Optimus once more, who offered no respite but to rub at his masked face and optics in an attempt to alleviate his mirth, the little red mech obediently hefted his arms outward from his sides. "Ah'm gonna regret this, Ah jes' know it…Ah can feel it in mah struts…"

-------

"Miraaaaaaaaaaaaage," Hound protested, trying to fend off the insistent hands of his Bondmate and that wretched polishing cloth he'd been subjected to for the last full cycle. "You can stop cleaning me; I'm not even dirty yet!"

"Oho, so you plan to _get_ dirty?" The noble arched an optic ridge down at the small jeep. Hound glanced away guiltily, pressing his fingers together. "That's… that's not what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?" That cloth was back, rubbing at his nose and cheeks, causing Hound to wiggle madly in vain to escape it.

"I just… pfft… I mean… pfft." Small hands gripped the cloth, holding it away from his face and out of his mouth, sputtering slightly. "I still have very sensitive olfactory sensors, Mirage… I can smell all that wax, it's making me nauseous…"

"Oh…" He settled the cloth to the side, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry, Hound, I just want you to look as cute and handsome as you really are."

The scout giggled, rubbing at his face to try to get some of the polish off. "I've been buffed enough to be Blaster's new disco ball." He regarded his hands and arms gleaming under the light of their quarters, unsettled by the sheer _cleanliness_… "I can… see myself."

Mirage positively beamed with motherly pride. "I know! You're such a handsome little mech!" And that cloth was back, scrubbing at some imaginary smudge on his helmet. Hound whimpered.

"M-Mirage…uh… aren't you hungry yet? You haven't been out of our quarters all day. I could certainly use a cube, myself." He wiggled free of the suffocating (can't breathe, too much wax, can't breeeeathe) grasp of his Bondmate, bolting for the door and scuttling about impatiently in front of it, resisting the urge to claw at the metal and scream for freedom. Mirage chuckled delightedly, palming open the door, "Anxious to show off your glossy wax job, are you? Well, who am I to keep you from your adoring public?" Hound offered a weak, nervous laugh. _Oh, Primus, have mercy on our sparklings…He's turning into Tracks…_

Hound stuck near to Mirage's legs, gazing up at the passing bots with wide optics. "Huh… this must be how Spike feels when he walks the corridors…" Even the smallest of bots towered above him, the larger not even noticing him underfoot as they passed, so he clung to Mirage's leg plating to avoid being trampled. Mirage glanced down at the sensation of tiny fingers clinging to his armor, scooping Hound up to cuddle tenderly. "Aw, my poor Puppy, so tiny…"

"Mirage… love… you're really starting to scare me." Hound regarded the spy with wide optics, trying to calculate how much of the act was genuine, how much was purposely exaggerated to get a rise out of him, and how much was being caused by some unmentioned blow to the helm. Mirage merely chuckled again and Hound wilted slightly in despair - he'd never seen the spy quite so… _giddy_. With the little jeep nestled securely into his arms, Mirage swept into the Rec Room with a flourish and beamed happily at the assembled bots within, looking for all the world like a proud creator. Suddenly Hound became very, very aware of the meanings of the words 'mother hen' and 'henpecked'.

"Primus, is that Hound?" The little jeep buried his face into Mirage's chest plates, willing them to open and swallow him whole just to hide from the gaggle of sudden onlookers. Tracks was leaning close to get a better look at him, Mirage carefully forcing Hound's head up to look at his 'adoring public' like some purebred pet on display. Hound's wide optics briefly met Trailbreaker's crimson gaze and he couldn't help but scowl at the amused grin on his friend's face.

"Oh he's so _little_!" someone chirped within the crowd and the scout whirled around with an increasingly angry scowl to try to pinpoint the source of the exclamation - probably Fireflight, staring at him almost nose-to-nose with wide, gleeful optics. He slumped a little at that - he could never bark at Fireflight for his excitement, the young aerial mech having been sparked on the organic planet and having never at all seen a protoformed sparkling. Hound forced away the prodding, petting, poking servos that were assaulting him from every direction, squirming with a startled squeak when one landed on his soft, rounded belly. "For the love of _Primus_!" Normally very docile, even a lap dog will snap if pushed too far. "I'm not deaf! I'm not blind! Yes I know how little I am! Slag it all!" Arms flailing, he thrashed and kicked in Mirage's grasp. "How would you like it if I held you a hundred feet above the ground and poked you over and over and over?!" His vents hitched suddenly, face flushed as he struggled, "Just… just leave me alone, would you?! It's not that funny!" Voice rising to a desperate squeak, he pressed his fists to his optics, forcing himself to calm and draw air steadily through his intakes, willing himself not to break down and cry. It was all just… too strange. Mirage's behavior, the sensation of being so tiny and defenseless, unable to transform, the cooing and coddling and poking and passing from bot to bot, collectively wearing down on his circuits with stress.

Mirage withdrew from the group, curling the fritzing sparkling against his shoulder, patting and rocking him soothingly. "First Aid said his emotional subroutines are going to be especially delicate like this," the noble explained quietly to his audience and Hound shook his head, wailing suddenly as he struggled.

"Maybe you should set him down for a while, Mirage," Trailbreaker called from his table. "You know Hound doesn't like to be fussed over even as a full grown mech."

Mirage regarded the Defense Specialist with something that was almost a sneer - barely restraining it from such out of respect that the SUV _was_ his Bondmate's best friend. "I think I know enough about Hound to know how to care for him, thank you, Trailbreaker." He winced just slightly in embarrassment as Hound's despairing howls increased in intensity.

The black mech shrugged gently. "Suit yourself, but you're the one going to be dealing with his tantrum, I suppose."

Mirage continued to scowl at Trailbreaker, but Hound's increasingly desperate struggles for freedom slowly eased the expression from his faceplates. "Perhaps… your suggestion has _some_ merit…" He knelt on one knee, pulling the sparkling from his shoulder, "Alright, Hound… I'm going to set you down for a while, okay?"

Hound stilled immediately, his cries ceasing with a startled hiccup, gazing up at Mirage through misty optics before slumping in relief and nodding. "Please, Mirage. I need… to stretch my legs a bit, is all." As soon as tiny green peds touched the floor, the mini-scout dove for cover underneath a nearby table. Mirage nearly pouted at his Bondmate's flight for freedom, embarrassed by the chuckles of the present bots. Serious expression in place once more, Mirage rose from his knee and gracefully glided towards the dispenser with his chin tilted upward.

Slumping against the wall in the comforting shadow of the table, Hound sighed in relief. He scrubbed at his face again, trying to cleanse it of both polish _and_ tears, before he set to creeping from table to chair to table, scuttling quickly towards a set of large, black legs.

"Trailbreaker!" The hoarse little whisper was barely audible beneath the table by his feet. The larger mech twisted to glance underneath, grinning at the sparkling Hound that clung to the plating of his shin. "Well hey there, Dog. Or should I call you 'Pup' now?"

"Trailbreaker, I need you to take me outside." Trailbreaker cocked his head slightly at the near-desperate expression on Hound's faceplates.

"What's the matter?"

"I… I…" He glanced around nervously, scooting closer to lower his voice even further. "Mirage won't stop cleaning me! I've _got_ to get outside, I have to get _dirty_! I'm going to go crazy! Pollen, dust, mud, _anything_ just get me out of here for a few cycles, _please_!"

Trailbreaker leaned up, glancing around quickly before twisting back down to gaze beneath the table. "Alright, we can't beat Mirage on stealth, so we're going to have to go for speed." Hound scoffed and Trailbreaker grinned. "Think of it as going for the touchdown in the last quarter… and you're the ball." 'Breaker took a moment to appreciate the look of terror on his friend's face before he grabbed him up, tucked him into his arm, and bolted from the table towards the door. Mirage whipped around at the sudden movement, eyes darting about for his sparkling Bondmate, before realization dawned and he chased belatedly after the larger mech. "Hey! Trailbreaker! Hound! Come back here this instant!" As they disappeared down the corridor with a triumphant laugh, Mirage planted his hands on his hips and scowled at the empty hallway. "Oh, just you _wait_, Hound…"

-------

Prowl hiccupped miserably, vents snuffling as he stood with his face pressed against the locked door of his quarters, arms hanging limp at his sides, doorwings drooping dejectedly against his back. Jazz lay on the berth, watching him with a slight frown as the small tactician seemed intent on driving himself crazy. "Prowler… y'ain't goin' to yer office, love…"

"_PLEASE_!" Little hands suddenly became animated, clawing at the panels of the door. "Please, please, please, please, please, please…!"

Jazz groaned, rolling to his peds off the berth. "We'll go out into the base, but y'ain't getting' into yer office. Alrigh'?"

Prowl stared up at him for a moment, his faceplates damp with constant tears, seeming to consider his proposal. Jazz could see him simultaneously trying to scheme a way around it to get to his preferred destination. "I… alright."

"Promise ya won't make a fuss?" The taller bot placed his hands on his hips, regarding the sparkling Second-in-Command suspiciously.

"I promise, Jazz…"

"An' promise ya won't try to get into your office?"

He paused a moment, lips pressed into a thin line before he nodded. "I promise…"

Jazz smiled at him and knelt down to tenderly gather him into his arms, resting him against his shoulder. As he stepped out into the hall, he cuddled the little black and white tenderly, offering a sad, lopsided smirk. "'M sorry 'bout last night, Prowler…I didn't want to have to spank ya like dat."

Prowl blushed at the memory, staring sadly at the white paneling he lay against. "I overreacted… This … has not been easy for me. You know how I am when Ratchet forces me to take time off… and with my battle computer on low-priority and my emotional subroutines running on high and the fact that I don't even reach your knee-joints…" he paused to sigh heavily, closing his optic shutters. "I suppose that's no excuse to behave that way, though… I'm sorry I kicked you. I'm sure you're stressed as well…"

"Not near as bad as _you_ are, love." Jazz turned to press a kiss to the round little audio receptor. "Ya need to relax or yer gonna end up in Medbay…"

Prowl offered a slow nod, nestling close to the saboteur's neck. "I don't like feeling like this, Jazz… small, helpless… How do the humans stand it?"

"We might be bigger'n 'em, Prowler, but I wouldn't say dat Spike an' Carly've ever felt _helpless_ 'round us."

Prowl offered him a weak smirk. "I suppose that's true… they're truly fearless amongst us. I wonder how they will react to seeing me in such a state…"

"Ya say it like yer missin' limbs, Prowler; an' don' worry, I'm sure they'll think yer da cutest lil' thing ever, 'cause ya are." Jazz rubbed his nose into Prowl's neck cables with a grin, causing the smaller bot to wiggle away from his playful affections.

"I have run one-hundred-forty-seven different scenarios depicting their possible emotional reaction and am in the process of completing more. Humans are… unpredictable at best, so I am having difficulty calculating the percentage of likelihood for any particular result."

"Like I said, they'll love ya." Jazz chuckled. "'Specially Carly. She coos an' giggles over all sortsa babies."

"Human females do tend to be far more receptive to the young offspring of any species than their male counterparts…"

"If yer worried dat Spike ain't gonna like ya, ya obviously ain't seen 'im wit' Daniel." Jazz shook his head slowly. "Ya gotta stop stressin', Prowl. It'll be fine, I promise."

Prowl forced himself to relax physically, slumping against Jazz's shoulder and letting his arms dangle down against his back, watching them sway limply with each bouncy step of the saboteur beneath him. Jazz patted soothingly at his back, just beneath his doors, humming quietly to the grumpy little tactician. "Are ya hungry, Prowlie?"

"Please don't call me that… especially not right now…" The plaintive whine was muffled slightly by the sparkling's face pressing into Jazz's plating.

The Third-in-Command chuckled softly, drawing the tip of his finger down the bottom of Prowl's dainty little ped, grinning as it twitched away from his touch. "What do ya want me ta call ya? 'Lil' Mech'? 'Mini-Prowler'? 'Teensy Tiny Tactician'?" Prowl nipped moodily at a neck cable and Jazz laughed, leaning away from the sharp little denta. "How 'bout 'Ankle Biter'?"

"How about 'Prowl' and maybe even 'Sir' since _technically_ I still outrank you…"

"Yessir, Ankle Biter, Sir."

"Ugh…you're enjoying this far too much…"

"Maaaaaybe." Jazz nuzzled him, glancing around the mostly-empty Rec Room as he entered, heading for the dispenser. "Let's getcha fueled up, Ankle Biter, Sir."

"_Please_ don't call me that… That's even worse than before…"

The larger bot grinned, reaching into his subspace compartment momentarily. Prowl's optics narrowed at the object he produced, heaving a loud, irritated sigh through his vents. "And where, exactly, did you get _that_, Jazz?"

He chuckled in response. "Oh, nuttin' ya need ta worry yer lil' 'ead over, Ankle Biter, Sir." Filling a cube from the dispenser, he used it to measure out the proper amount of Energon to fill the slightly oversized human baby bottle. Prowl's doors twitched at the moniker that was quickly becoming his most hated nickname ever. "Didn't I tell ya I'd be gettin' one fer ya?"

"Yes but… That was a _joke_, wasn't it?!"

Jazz snickered, devious and incredibly amused, as he moved to the couch with both cube and bottle. "Now c'mon, drink up."

"Jaaaaaaaaaazz…" The pleading whine only made the saboteur laugh harder, Prowl's faceplates burning as he gazed at the offending object with abject terror. "Please, Jazz, that's… humiliating, degrading…!"

"C'mon, Prowler," he chuckled again, nudging the bottle against lips that quickly pressed tight together. "C'mon, drink up."

He evaded the horrid thing again, glowering up at the larger bot, and had begun a fresh string of protests when the bottle was quickly shoved into his open mouth. A little startled, he twisted away, trying to shake free of the hand supporting him and the bottle following his movements despite how and where he squirmed. Finally, Prowl gave up and slumped against Jazz's abdomen, glaring nearly cross-optic'd down his nose at the container. At Jazz's insistent little nudge, he sighed and gave it a single obligatory suckle.

Jazz chuckled softly. "Dat ain't gonna fly like last night, Prowler. Drink yer Energon."

Clenching his optic shutters, his face plates so flushed and heated he thought they might start to melt, he gave another hesitant suckle to the bottle forced upon him, slowly drawing the fuel from the rubber nipple. Jazz's fingers rubbed softly, tenderly, between his doors, setting them to fluttering, the larger black and white mech's gentle, praising croons slowly lulling the tactician into a foreign haze of contentment. His features relaxed, nestling comfortably against the spy's midsection with a happy little sigh, quietly nursing the fuel without further protest.

Jazz smiled, tracing his fingertips from the hinges of Prowl's doors to the back of his neck and along the white helm until he could rub at the surface of the little red chevron. The tactician purred softly in his grasp, hands balled up into fists held close against his chestplates, optics opening just slightly to regard the larger mech above him before the shutters drooped heavily closed again and the sparkling nestled even closer into the comforting embrace of the other.

_If it makes him that happy, it can't be too terrible, I suppose…_Prowl mused sleepily to himself, offering a soft hiccup when the empty bottle was pulled away. "Dat's a good lil' Prowler," Jazz cooed, lifting him up to tuck him against his neck and shoulder, rubbing along his back. "If I di'n't know better, I'd think ya liked yer bottle."

Jazz snickered at the indignant kick in the chestplates he received for his teasing.

------

Inferno shifted a deeply-recharging Perceptor against his shoulder, stroking idly along his back plating to keep him soothed and asleep. He couldn't imagine how exhausting being cuddled to near-deactivation must be, but given the fatigued state of the little scientist by the time they had made it back to his quarters the previous night, he felt he had a pretty good notion on where to start. For once, he was grateful for monitor duty, allowing him a semi-quiet environment where he could keep an optic on his new charge, though the shy glances and adoring stares of the other bots on duty with him were starting to make him feel just the slightest bit paranoid. Bluestreak was outright gawking, his doorwings fluttering excitedly, and faceplates bright pink as though he were holding his breath. He seemed fit to burst at the seams, Inferno mused, and hadn't even glanced at his assigned monitor since he first laid optics on the little bot. Finally, Inferno sighed and turned to regard the young, excitable gunner with a smirk. "Wanna hold him?"

Bluestreak's optics widened and the biggest, brightest grin Inferno had ever seen from the little grey mech lit up his face, followed by an enthusiastic series of nods. The fire truck laughed softly and shuffled over to the other mech, carefully shifting the sparkling between them to lay on Bluestreak's chestplates where he held him close and comfortable, gazing almost reverently at the tiny form, gentle fingers tracing helm and microscope, lightly touching tiny fingertips that curled away into a little fist. Bluestreak's grin brightened further and Inferno chuckled at the young mech. "Yah can hang onto him for the shift if yah want. He'll probably recharge the whole time."

The gunner's arms tightened carefully around the tiny form. "Thanks, Inferno," he whispered, unwilling to wake the slumbering little bot. _That's the shortest sentence I've ever heard from him_,Inferno mused as he flopped back down in his seat. He tried not to cringe at the flurry of movement he immediately heard behind him as some mechs seemed to decide that Perceptor was no longer 'off limits' once he was out of the large red bot's grasp, crowding around Bluestreak to get a better look. Casting a glance back towards the little group, he lifted an optic ridge, "Y'all better not wake him up. He had a long day yesterday - and if Red finds out yah ain't at yahr stations, he'll fritz a circuit."

Red Alert had been more than a little wary of having a third body in their shared quarters, suggesting everything from Decepticons swapping him out with an evil clone to spy on them to the likelihood that he might detonate, given Wheeljack's possible involvement in his current form, but was unwilling to make a very loud protest should the sleepy little scientist wake from his slumber. In all honesty, Inferno chuckled to himself, Red had been far easier to convince over this particular charge than he had been to convince over much simpler things - like the safety of the communal wash racks or that the Energon from the dispenser was _not_ a different shade of pink than it was two cycles ago. Once the three of them had cuddled up together on the berth for the night, the smaller red bot had all but taken complete custody of Perceptor, cradling him close against his spark, softly nuzzling the tiny helm. Inferno smiled at the memory, knowing with certainty now that his previous guesses were right on the mark - Red would love to have a sparkling of his own. Perceptor would have been embarrassed had he been aware of the tender treatment he was receiving, but he only cuddled closer into the contact, blissfully unaware as half-awake little kisses of adoration were planted on his helm while the Security Director drifted off into a very deep and peaceful recharge. Inferno had laid awake a while longer, watching them together and feeling his spark swell at the contented little smile that graced the Lamborghini's lips as he cradled the tiny form in his sleep.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he turned a grin to the quietly whispering group huddled around Bluestreak, cooing and gently petting the sleeping Perceptor. One of the advantages of being a scientist instead of a warrior, the little bot didn't have the knee-jerk reactions to bring him online at all the movement and touches to his small form, remaining completely oblivious to the world around him but for when he stirred momentarily to rub his optics into Blue's chestplates before going back to sleep.

"Primus, he's a deep sleeper," Blaster chuckled softly as he moved away back to his station, ushering the rest of the assembled group away as well. "It'd be best to just let him rest." Some of them moaned in weak protest, but shuffled obediently away to their monitors, not wanting to risk Red Alert's wrath and paranoia if he were to discover them away from their posts.

Inferno smiled at Bluestreak as he began a soft, one-sided conversation with the little mech on his chest and gave a gentle shake of his head. _'Jack needs to hurry up and bond to that mech…He would be much happier with a little sparkling of his own to love…_

A wistful little sigh escaped his vents, Inferno daydreaming about a little red and white mech - maybe a Lambo, maybe a fire truck… maybe something else entirely… tossing different designations about in his processor, smiling indulgently at the monitor screen he didn't really see.

---------

Skyfire heaved an exasperated sigh, tapping again on the thick slab of metal that once would have constituted as a door - Wheeljack had a nasty habit of making rather innocuous things into either terrifying death machines or heaps of scrap, and apparently this one was the latter. The gears to the door had stripped themselves, struggling to open against the welding and obey the medical override codes and even Optimus's personal codes. "Wheeljack, this is foolish. You didn't even take any fuel into quarantine with you."

"I'm not opening the door, Skyfire. I can't risk further inf--"

"'Jack, you don't know what is or isn't going to happen - you don't even have any theories yet. Look, I can help you: just consider me your personal test specimen. You need someone that you can experiment with, to see if there could be any changes. Even if you have a theory, how can you carry it out with no test subject?"

When no further responses were forthcoming from the metal, Skyfire kicked it moodily. "Slag it, Wheeljack! I'm not as little, I'm not as helpless as the others, I can _help_ you - you _need_ me!"

"Skyfire, what if your prolonged contact with me causes other effects? What if because of your assistance your processor starts regressing as well, or your spark may even be ejected from your protoform…"

"It's a risk I'm willing to take - I'm a scientist, Wheeljack, like you. I've already lost one of my lives; it's not much of a stretch to risk this second one to save the ones I care about…"

"This isn't like being buried in the ice…"

"I _know_ that! I don't care! Open the fragging _door_!"

Another moment's silence passed and Skyfire was just about ready to go into a full tantrum on the floor when 'Jack heaved an exasperated sigh loud enough to penetrate the metal slab. "You're not going to go away, are you?"

"Pits no, I'm not. I won't abandon you - I won't ever abandon my friends again so long as I have spark within my chassis…"

"Alright, Skyfire, you win… Now just, uh… lemme… find a way to open the door…hmm…"


	5. Coping Part 1

A/N: I apologize for the delay - I have a tendency to write in scenes that don't necessarily follow a time-line, and then I find myself trying to make them mesh together in a semi-acceptable way later. That's how a lot of this chapter was written - and why I wasted half of the time on scenes that will probably be at the very end of the story. Also, this chapter ran sort of long, so I chopped it in two - and I haven't really finished the second half yet .; Got a good chunk of it done, but not finished...

ANYWAY. I blame the entirety of Ironhide's part of this chapter on my Husband, who thought the idea was a hilarious affront to the poor mech's masculinity. Carly, 'Hide is probably going to squish you later. Thanks so much for all the favs and reviews everyone has left - it really does excite me to keep going rather than getting bored and frustrated halfway.

* * *

Sideswipe squealed, engine rumbling in a loud, playful growl, trying to shove his golden twin from atop his frame. Sunstreaker held him firmly in the grass, rubbing his brother's helm back and forth until the grass beneath it had been ripped up and he was rubbing Sideswipe's head into the dirt. The red mech squealed again, shrill and indignant, as he thrashed and finally wrenched himself free, leaping onto his twin and sending them both tumbling across the ground, fighting for dominance, engines grumbling and growling at one another.

Ratchet sighed heavily as he watched them through narrowed optics from his perch on the oversized blanket Beachcomber and Bumblebee had laid out for their 'picnic'. Sunstreaker would shriek about grass stains and smudges, Sideswipe would laugh at him and rub even more blades of grass onto his face and they would go tumbling and cart-wheeling off again in some vicious cycle of immaturity. _Not that it's any different from how they normally behave…_ Ratchet grumped to himself, folding little white arms across his chest.

"Well they look like they're having fun, Ratchet." Bumblebee settled onto his belly next to the sparkling CMO with a grin, watching the twins play fight.

"That's because they either don't understand or they simply _don't care_ about the serious implications our current states could have." The angry medic's growl caused the yellow minibot to offer up a lopsided smirk.

"You could play _with_ them, y'know…"

Ratchet tilted his head to regard Bumblebee with a frown and a lofted optic ridge that clearly said he was an idiot in the medic's optics at that moment. "We are not here to roll around in the grass and damage ourselves. We came out here to _avoid_ getting damaged by vengeance-seeking minibots, remember?" With a huff, the white bot turned away, arms tightening a fraction in their irate self-hug, optic shutters narrowing a little further.

Beachcomber sighed from behind them, scooting to lie on Ratchet's other side, belly-down as Bumblebee was. "Ratch, man, you need to relax…"

"I CAN'T _RELAX_, BEACHCOMBER!" He threw his arms up into the air, staring at the sky as he shrieked. The twins paused in their roughhousing, Sideswipe sitting on Sunstreaker's back, gripping his brother's leg beneath his arm, to offer a wide-optic'd gaze towards their Bondmate. "HOW CAN I RELAX WHEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT CAUSED THIS?! HOW CAN I RELAX WHEN I DON'T KNOW WHAT ELSE WILL GO WRONG?! HOW CAN I _RELAX_ WHEN I DON'T KNOW HOW TO FIX IT AND I'M BEING FORBIDDEN FROM TRYING TO FIND OUT?!" His arms flapped at his sides, frantic. "I DON'T WANT TO STAY THIS WAY BUT THEY SEEM INTENT ON KEEPING ME FROM SOLVING IT!"

"Ratchet…" Bumblebee patted his leg soothingly, "They're not trying to keep you this way - they want you to take advantage of the opportunity while it's presented to you. I'm sure Wheeljack and the others are perfectly capable of finding the cause and the cure, but Prime and the others… You work so hard, Ratchet, and you don't take time for yourself… They worry about you, you know. They care about you. We all do."

The little medic huffed again. "They have a funny way of showing it…"

Beachcomber chuckled, wrapping his arms around the little white bot and pulling him close, tucking him safely beneath his chin. "Well if you won't have fun, man, don't spoil theirs. They look like they're having a good time." Ratchet frowned thoughtfully, watching the two Lamborghinis roll and struggle with one another, Sideswipe laughing delightedly whenever he was pinned by his brother, legs flailing as he wiggled for freedom. Ratchet only offered a soft 'hmph' and nestled himself into the comforting shelter beneath the minibot's chin, sighing.

Bumblebee grinned, turning to fully face the little medic. "Bet you I can make you laugh, Ratchet."

The sparkling CMO regarded him with narrowed optics. "I doubt it…"

Bumblebee chuckled a bit, drawing him out of his little cove by his ankles, "Well, we'll see if your emotional programming really _is_ as overactive as they think." He gestured at Beachcomber who handed him a cleaning towel from the picnic basket - large cubes in tiny hands were sure to cause a mess - 'Bee shook the towel momentarily then dropped it on top of Ratchet's head. Ratchet gasped softly, unsettled by being suddenly blinded, struggling to get the heavy fabric off of his frame.

"Wheeere's Ratcheeet?" Bumblebee called and the towel was lifted quickly away. "Peek-a-boo!" The little CMO stared at the yellow bot, optic shutter twitching slightly, then gasped again as he was draped in darkness once more. "Wheeere's Ratchet?" The towel was lifted again. "Peek-a-boo!"

Ratchet gazed at the bot, uncomprehending for a moment longer and then offered a sudden snort, covering his mouth with both hands. Bumblebee grinned triumphantly, dropping the towel again, "Where's Ratchet?" The sparkling stilled in anticipation, twitching as he was uncovered. "Peek-a-boo!"

"Bumblebee…!" Ratchet struggled to fight back the giggles threatening to overpower him. "That's… ridiculous!" He squeaked, biting back a laugh, as he was covered again. "Where's Ratchet?" Ratchet buried his face further in his own hands, shoulders quivering, convinced he'd be unable to hold back any further mirth when the fabric was swept off his form. "Peek-a-boo!" Ratchet kept his hands clamped firmly over his mouth, optic shutters clenched tight, shaking his head slightly, and murmuring weakly to himself, "I won't laugh, I won't laugh, I won't laugh…"

Bumblebee leaned down to peer into the sparkling's face with a grin, lightly touching the tips of their noses together. Ratchet stared up into 'Bee's optics as his grin broadened slightly and he whispered, "Wheeeere's Ratcheeet?" Ratchet snorted aloud, hands moving to cup his nose as well as his mouth, entire frame shaking. "Wheeeere's Raaaatcheeeet?"

Beachcomber chuckled softly from behind them, large fingers moving to lightly prod at the medic's sides resulting in a startled squeak and a sudden flood of laughter - that extra nudge was apparently all it took to send him over the edge. Both larger mechs chuckled at the sparkling's bout of hilarity, Bumblebee covering and uncovering his face rapidly to further Ratchet's laughter. "Peek-a-boo! Peek-a-boo! Peek-a-boo!"

"Stop! Stop!" Ratchet waved weakly, rocking onto his back on the blanket, arms wrapped tight around his heaving midsection. Bumblebee giggled delightedly, leaning to hover directly over the mirthful sparkling, covering his own face with the towel, "Where's Raaatcheeet?"

"I-I--" He gasped for air, vents heaving, shaking his head. "I'm right he-he-here!"

"There he is!" 'Bee grinned from just over the top of the bundled towel. "Peek-a-boo, Ratchet!"

Beachcomber chuckled a little louder and reached out to gently push Bumblebee back from his victim. "Easy, 'Bee, little guy's gonna bust a pump." Bumblebee lay back down on the blanket, waiting for Ratchet to recover, offering him a smug grin. "Toldja I could make you laugh."

Ratchet gulped air into his intakes, snickering softly as he calmed. "Wh-where did you… why did…"

"Spike and Carly used to play 'peek-a-boo' with Daniel when he was a sparkling." Bumblebee giggled at Ratchet's flushed face, reaching out to rub soothingly at his belly. "He'd always have the biggest giggle-fit from it, but apparently he thought it was absolutely _hilarious_ when I did it."

When Ratchet's mirth finally ebbed, he relaxed on the blanket with a little yawn, stretching his arms above his head. Beachcomber crooned softly at him, reaching to scoot him back into that protective cove beneath his chin, "Looks like someone's ready for a nap."

Ratchet shook his head stubbornly. "I'm not… My energy levels are at…" He scrubbed at his optics, leaning against Beachcomber's neck for support. "They're… fine…"

Bumblebee giggled, "Sure, Ratchet. You're not sleepy at all." He shook his head slightly. "And neither are Sunny or Sides," he snickered, pointing towards the small pile of red and yellow curled up in the grass. The twins seemed to have fallen into recharge right in the middle of their play, Sideswipe sprawled on his back spread-eagle, Sunny curled up against his brother's side with his head resting on a red chest, arms dangling limp at his sides. Both larger bots giggled as 'Bee moved to retrieve the sleeping sparklings, tucking them securely into his arms against either side of his chestplates. The little forms whimpered to be separated from one another but settled quickly within the minibot's comfortable grasp.

"C'mon, Ratch, let's get you guys to a nice, comfy berth for recharge." Beachcomber ignored the drowsy protesting of the smallest sparkling, tucking him against his shoulder as he stood, piling the blanket and other picnic supplies into the basket with one hand before shoving it into subspace. "Just for a little while, a couple cycles tops."

The walk back to the Ark was brisk and hushed but for the soft singing of the geologist, patting tenderly along the back plating of a stubborn, squirming sparkling. Ratchet wiggled and kicked, whimpering in protest, "I'm not tired! My energy levels are fine! I… I don't _want_ to nap!" Both minibots merely chuckled at the insistent sparkling. Ratchet sulked from within Beachcomber's embrace, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it of the drowsy feeling inspired by the minibot's quiet voice and the gentle sway of his stride, his optics fixed on the peaceful features of his Bondmates laying against either of 'Bee's shoulders. He felt like he should be more resentful of them, really, for taking it all in stride the way they were; for not breaking down the way the rest of them had; for actually seeming to _enjoy_ their conditions… but the soft, relaxed faceplates, faintly blushed from sleep, were difficult to scowl at without feeling guilt gnawing at the pit of his tanks. Beachcomber tapped the code to his quarters at the door, stepping aside to allow 'Bee entrance first with his burden and quickly followed him, settling the fussy CMO on his own berth while Bumblebee tucked the twins into the small additional cot.

Ratchet sat up with a huff, folding his arms tight across his chest, glowering at the two larger bots as they exchanged pleasantries at the door. An optic ridge quirked at the hushed voices, bashful smiles gracing either bot's face, Bumblebee drawing his hand back shyly as Beachcomber's fingers grazed across his palm. 'Bee leaned slightly to wave to Ratchet before he offered a final glance to Beachcomber, turning away with a small, timid smile and a faint flushing of his faceplates.

"So," Ratchet quipped as the door slid closed, "you and Bumblebee are seeing one another?"

Beachcomber smirked, shaking his head. "Not exactly, Ratch. I wouldn't mind it, but 'Bee doesn't seem to be looking to be seeing _anyone_ right now." He settled onto the berth beside the sparkling, lifting him carefully into his lap. "Not that it's any of your business, by the way. Now, little mech, it's about time for your nap…"

"Beachcomber, I wish you'd stop trying to treat me like a sparkling." The growl was soft but clear, Ratchet's small red hands tightening into fists. "You _do_ realize I'm still the Chief Medical Officer of this unit, right? Meaning I'm an adult," he tapped his helm, "right here, which is where it matters. Minibots, cassettes, a bot's physical size doesn't matter as long as they have the right processor for the job. I'm not going to just _let_ them take my job away from me, you know! This can't last forever, and in the meantime I'm going to fight First Aid and Prime's decision every step of the way until he lets me resume my duties as CMO!"

Beachcomber offered a sigh at the sparkling, then smirked lopsidedly, obviously forced and faintly sad. "You know, man, you should probably be a little more grateful for the opportunity to relax like this, to just be cared for."

"Grateful?!" Ratchet's arms flailed to accompany his incredulous squeak. "What is there to be _grateful_ about?! We're completely at the mercy of whoever decides they want to pick us up and throw us down the hall! There is work to be done, that's sitting, untouched, on my desk no doubt! There are patients that need repairs; there are therapy regimens that need to be continued!"

"And there's lots of bots on base that haven't dealt with the war as well as others, man - lots of bots that could really benefit from a time-out like this, to just…be loved on and cuddled. Bots that have lost a lot, lost everything, lost themselves. Bluestreak, I think, could really use a break like this, Ratch. He could really use a chance to feel safe again."

Ratchet's angry glare softened at the thought, then lowered guiltily to the floor. "I… suppose you're right. This would be very therapeutic for Bluestreak…" The Autobots were generally a tactile bunch at best - someone was always offering a friendly greeting, a warrior's handshake, a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, a comforting hug - and every bot he'd seen, though admittedly limited, had handled himself and the other sparklings with great care, soft caresses, gentle voices…it was all very comforting, very… soothing… He shook himself slightly, fixing his gaze on the minibot once more. "For _Bluestreak_ but not for _me_!"

Beachcomber's expression was difficult to read behind his visor, but Ratchet was pretty sure that the grin he offered to the red and white sparkling could be called 'not buying it'. "Well, Ratch, then what about Sunstreaker? Don't know about you, man, but I've never seen him quite so calm."

Ratchet wilted further, glancing towards the peacefully recharging forms of the twins, cuddled up against one another. Sunstreaker's arms tightened around his brother and he nestled closer against the red mech, nuzzling his face against Sideswipe's neck with a content little sigh. Ratchet jumped, startled from his staring, by Beachcomber's hands under his arms, lifting him up against the geologist's shoulder, gently pressing his head down to rest there. "Now c'mon, Ratch, it's time for recharge."

"Yeah… I guess so…" The CMO sighed softly, tugging pensively at his bottom lip with his denta. Beachcomber paced the length of the room, swaying and humming as he gently rubbed at Ratchet's spinal supports until the tiny medic's optics began to dim and shutters drift closed. As the sparkling's systems cycled down for recharge, Beachcomber settled him onto the berth with the twins who woke, just slightly, and dragged the smaller white mech between them before cuddling up again and dropping back off to sleep.

The blue bot sighed, stroking a palm over each small helm. "Aw, Ratch… you need this more than you think." He strode shortly to his own berth, settling in on his side, watching the small forms squirm against one another until they were comfortable. "We could all use a chance to feel safe again…"

------

Ironhide whined aloud, weakly trying to fend off the insistent femme that had captured his legs, sitting fully on top of them, forcing a colorful mass of fabric on him to cover his pedes, tying them securely at the top. Satisfied, she fluffed out the slight ruffle the cinching made and straightened the ribbon's bow before she released her prisoner. "There we go!" Ironhide kicked madly, trying to shake them off, but the ties held tight. "So cute - but be careful, these metal floors might make walking kind of slippery." He glowered at the human femme as she adjusted the clothing she had forced upon him - oversized blue coveralls with large gold buttons adorned the Weapon's Specialist's frame, the wide legs ending just above his knee joints. It had three pockets, one on either hip, and a large pocket on his chest where Carly had affixed the Autobot insignia. On his pedes, Carly had forced similarly colored 'booties', blue fleece trimmed on the edges in red, both with the insignia planted in the middle. From a distance, the color scheme might have suggested a miniature Optimus. Carly was beaming delightedly with motherly affection at the disgruntled little mech, who held his angry glare for only a moment longer before he slumped, sighing in defeat.

"When's Optimus gonna be back…?" Being toted about and teased by the Autobot leader was far more preferable than being Carly's oversized doll for playing 'dress up'. It had been an act of mercy to his poor, smarting reputation for Ironhide to be left with the humans as babysitters, rather than carried tucked against Prime's neck in full sight of the rest of the crew as Optimus went about his duties - several of the patrols had been reporting an increase in Decepticon activity in territories near the _Ark_ and Prime had more than a few speculations regarding their sudden bravery in combination to the hypothesized virus that had turned the bots into sparklings.

"He won't be gone too long, 'Hide, sweetie," Carly cooed, rummaging through the pile of sparkling-sized clothing she'd made with the little mech's measurements. "Just long enough to get through your whole new wardrobe, I think."

Ironhide groaned loudly, flopping back in a theatrical display of aggravation. "Carly… please…no more…We don' wear clothes like y'all humans do, y'know…" He rolled slightly to send a pleading gaze to Spike, whimpering quietly towards the human. He only grinned at Hide, chuckling softly as he held up a rather oversized and overstuffed teddy bear, shaking its dangly limbs to make it dance in his grasp. Ironhide glared in return, less than amused, muttering quietly, "Yer no help…"

"Oh but you just look so _cute_ in them, 'Hide!" She whirled around and Ironhide rapidly blinked his shutters to clear his optics of the flashes of light echoing in his receptors.

"Aw, Carly… No, Carly, no slaggin' way…"

"Language, 'Hide, little ones shouldn't use that kind of talk." She grinned at him from over her camera, blinding him again as she clicked away. She danced back, laughing, as he lunged for her, sliding across the floor without traction under his pedes, the fleece fabric slipping easily along the metal flooring of the base. He caught his balance, arms flailing, and offered a growl of frustration at the flashes of light behind him. He turned (_carefully_) and stalked after the femme, reaching out for the camera. He leapt for the small device as it was tossed to Spike, falling way short, sliding on his belly across the floor as the male caught the camera and raced away from the furious mech. Ironhide struggled to chase after him, scrambling as his pedes again refused to find traction on the floor, and finally slumped back down, glaring at one human, then the other. "Did Ah ever do anythin' mean ta y'all? Did Ah ever step on anythin' important or sit on yer car or anythin' like that? Hurtcha or scare Daniel or anythin'?"

Carly pondered, seeming befuddled by the question. "No, not that I recall…"

"Wouldja like meh to start?! GIMME THAT CAMERA!" He lurched forward, scrambling unsteadily to his feet after Spike. The human jumped, startled by the renewed vigor of the chase, and bolted away from the furious sparkling, laughing. "Carly! Here!" The little device soared over Ironhide's head again and he spun, falling to his knees for a moment before struggling once more back to his feet, wobbling and unbalanced. "This ain't mature a'tall! Y'all're s'posed ta be adults, aintcha?!"

Carly tucked the camera away safely in her bag as she grabbed up another pile of clothes, turning to Ironhide with a grin. "That's right! And it's time to get little 'Hide ready for his naptime!"

Ironhide came to an unsteady halt in his pursuit, gazing warily at the femme as he took a cautious, wobbly step backwards. "Carly… no… please… no more…"

"Spike, sweetie," she called, quickly advancing on the Weapons Specialist who, though he tried, he really tried, couldn't escape quite fast enough in his slippery little booties, falling to his knees and struggling to get back up. "Be a dear and get the baby's bottle ready for his nap, would you?"

"Bottle…" Ironhide whimpered quietly, faceplates flushed. "Carly, please, y'all're… this is just _mean_…" He squeaked fearfully when he was yanked forward across the floor on his belly and rolled over, swiftly undressed with the practiced ease only a mother with a very squirmy child can possess. He struggled harder for freedom when she captured his pedes again, swiftly pulling the next outfit up his legs and over his middle. Ironhide wasn't quite sure how she managed it with her size and inferior human strength, but somehow amidst his frantic wiggling she got him dressed and zipped up the front of the footed pajamas. 'Hide stared, horrified, at the fabric encasing his chassis, soft red flannel than ran from pede to neck, close enough in color to be barely discernable from his own paint, loose enough to cover all the awkward, bulky parts of his legs, arms and shoulders, tighter around the wrists where it swallowed his hands in large mittens, only offering his thumb freedom for grasping. He shifted his shoulders slightly, testing his range of motion, before resuming his fight for freedom, wailing in despair as Carly easily held him by a single ankle, finding even less traction than before with his legs and hands completely encased.

"Looks like someone's getting kind of fussy, Carly," Spike commented as he settled down beside her, lightly shaking the prepared bottle of Energon. "Where did Optimus get this, anyway…?"

"He said he got it from Jazz." Carly took it from him. Ironhide tagged a reminder to kill Jazz for 'helping'. "Thoughtful of Jazz, too, since we can't risk touching the Energon to feed him."

"AH CAN FEED MAHSELF, YAKNOW!" 'Hide clawed madly at the ground with the mittens, whining as he was dragged backwards, both Carly and Spike pulling him close to them, sprawled across both their laps. "Lemme go! _Please_ lemme go! This ain't fun, this ain't nice a'y'all!"

"Awww, Ironhide, settle down, sweetie…" Carly cooed to him, poking him lightly on the nose. He started, staring at the offending finger with furrowed ridges, pushing her away with a mittened hand. Carly only giggled, poking him again, "Who's a little cutie? Who's a little cutiebot? Huh?" Ironhide furrowed his optic ridges even further, optic shutters narrowed as he regarded the femme darkly. She giggled harder, "Oh look at that pouty little faceplate! C'mon, Ironhide, smile for me!" 'Hide squeaked, twisting and drawing his shoulders up to evade Carly's nimble fingers as they teased beneath his chin. "Smile for me, 'Hide," she sang, giggling as she followed his every turn, "c'mon, cutiebot!"

Ironhide wiggled, slapping and kicking as he struggled to force away the small human fingers tickling his neck and chin, denta clenched and lips pressed firm, fighting back the grin Carly was trying to pry out of him. "N-n-no! Y-yer mean!" He squeaked louder, trying to kick Spike away, fending off the light prodding at his midsection. "Stop! Lemme go!" A small chortle worked itself free amongst his cries, spurring the two on until Ironhide collapsed between them in a sudden fit of giggles.

"Aw, Ironhide," Carly chuckled as she eased back, petting his chest and belly. "Don't be _too_ mad at us - when would we ever get another chance like this? We're barely a fraction of your size, normally."

"Yeah," Spike continued, laughing softly. "And you're not exactly the cuddliest of bots as an adult, y'know. We're just trying to have a little fun with you."

"But… this is embarrassin'!" Ironhide's whining retort only made them snicker. "Ah ain't likin' bein' treated this way…Ah ain't never teased y'all fer bein' sick, have Ah?" His vents caught slightly in a suppressed yawn as he scrubbed wearily at his optics with his mittens.

"The first time you saw Spike with a fever, you kept asking Ratchet if you should pour some coolant on him." Carly prodded his side lightly, playfully, before sliding an arm beneath his shoulders and heft him up to rest nestled against her chest, idly trailing her fingers down the seams of his faceplates.

"Ah was tryin' ta help!" Optic shutters closed in response to the petting, tilting his head against her chest. His optic ridges furrowed in thought for a moment and he nestled closer, listening curiously to the beating of the human's heart. Idly, he wondered if Ratchet had heard it yet, reflecting on what he knew of the organic pump in relation to his own. "Ah din't know no better…Y'all humans're so differn't from us…"

"Do Cybertronians have parents?" Carly shook the bottle again, eyeing the contents suspiciously through the clear plastic - or, what she had _assumed_ was plastic, considering the somewhat volatile fuel hadn't eaten through the container yet - and shifting to nudge it lightly against the sparkling's lips.

"Naht in th'same sense y'all do, Ah reckon," he pushed the bottle away slightly to answer, mulling over the question. "There's creators an' mentors an' guardians, but it really depends on how a bot makes a sparklin', Ah guess."

"How many ways are there?" Spike scoffed, incredulous. "With humans it's pretty straight-forward."

"Well sure, y'all bisexual species n'yer organic codin', it's gonna be differn't. Ratchet's prob'ly th'better mech fer th'job here, but Ah'll try t'splain. Th'most common way, back b'fore the war, was protoformin' sparklin's. Coupla bots get together an' merge their sparks, feedin' 'em as much energy as they can muster, makin' 'em swell until they branch off into a new spark in one've the bots' spark casin'. It gestates there ferra coupla lunar cycles, feedin' offa the carrier's energy an' bein' supplemented by th'other bot's spark durin' mergin's, or sometimes a single spark'll split on its own without a second bot, an' once it's big enough ta survive on its own, it gets put into a protoform, sometimes blank, lettin' 'em kinda build themselves on their own; sometimes with a specific frame design geared towards shapin' the new bot inna certain way. Then there's bots like th' Aerialbots, they got some protoform flesh in their structural design, but they were sparked full-grown from Vector Sigma - Ah'm sure either Optimus'r Ratchet's toldja 'bout all that. And then," he paused to snort lightly at Spike's incredulous 'There's _more_?!', "there's sumpthin' called 'budding' that ain't a lotta bots tend ta do. Prolly the closest ta human reproducin', Ah think, from what Ratch has told meh. Bot starts expellin' partsa his protoform from his chestplates, causin' a 'bud', kinda like a big lump over his spark, an' he spends some time gatherin' enough energy to surge through the bud and kinda give it a jolt, shockin' it ta life an' installin' a new spark. Th'bud takes mosta its codin' from its creator, but changes it a bit, makes it unique, so it ain't a clone, it's a new bot. Kinda like Daniel takin' his organic codin' from y'all both, but he ain't a clone of neither'v'ya."

"Wow…" Carly muttered, feeling a bit overwhelmed by trying to translate that explanation into organic terms. "Maybe we _should_ have asked Ratchet." She shook her head with a chuckle, cradling Ironhide closer. "But that wasn't really what I was asking, 'Hide. Did you have a mommy when you were a sparkling - someone who hugged you and bathed you and rocked you to recharge?"

Ironhide stared at her for a moment, optic ridges furrowed in thought. "Yeah… Ah did…" His gaze strayed away towards the ceiling, searching his memory banks. "Ah hadda set've creators, a femme an' a mech… mah mem'ry banks ain't what they used ta be… an' they've been offline since before th'war started… Ah don' e'en remember their names righ' now…Ah was protoformed, 'bout as helpless as a bot can be, an' when Ah first opened mah optics, mah mech creator jes… scooped meh right up an' gave meh this big ole grin an' told meh mah designation. He had this big ole boomin' voice, scared th'spark outta me an' mah femme laughed s'hard when Ah started cryin', 'cause he looked s'scared right back, thought he done broke meh." 'Hide smirked and offered a short chuckle, returning his gaze to the two humans.

Carly was smiling softly, almost sadly, affectionately at him in that peculiar, motherly way she'd developed, stroking a hand across the Spartan comb of his helm. "They sound like they loved you right from the start."

"Ah remember a bit about 'em, jes not much n'more… Lil' things Ah think 'bout when Ah see y'all with Daniel. Ah'm old, though, e'en by our standards, so it ain't like they woulda held out ta see meh here with y'all…" He nestled into Carly's arms, sighing softly as he glanced over his own form once more. "Well, ain't s'old right now, but _norm'ly_…" He scrubbed wearily at his optics for a moment as Carly pressed the bottle back against his lips, the weary sparkling obligingly accepting the fuel with a renewed flag on his processor's note to kill Jazz for sparking the idea of bottles for the sparklings.

"I think it's almost time for your nap, 'Hide," Spike chuckled quietly, patting the sparkling's leg as he reached for the oversized bear, tucking it just beneath Ironhide's curled arms.

"Drink your Energon, then we'll get you settled in." Carly rocked slowly with the little bot pressed against her, humming a quiet little song of random notes. Ironhide shifted his legs when Spike moved out from beneath them, his optic shutters drifting closed during his refuel. When Carly heard his systems changing gear, shifting down for his recharge cycle, she gently tugged the forgotten bottle away and tucked Ironhide's arms around the bear on his chestplates. Both humans shifted the slumbering form onto the floor, tucking a pillow beneath his head as he curled up, clutching lightly at the bear in his arms with a small, relaxed sigh through his vents. Carly giggled softly, turning the flash off of her camera so as not to wake him while she snapped pictures.

When Optimus returned, he offered a raised optic ridge at the scene, teddy bear and all, but only shook his head with a quiet chuckle, gathering up the sparkling to rest against his shoulder. Instinctively, Ironhide wiggled close to the warmth of his cables, resting an audio on the main Energon line, listening to the pulsing of the fuel within. Spike offered up a box to Optimus, large in the human's hands but tiny in his own, asking him to give it to Ironhide when he awoke as an apology for having so much fun at his expense. Optimus subspaced it with another quiet chuckle, thanking them for taking such good care of his friend, whether he had wanted to be cared for so well or not.

----------

Hound rolled onto his back in the grass, vents cycling contentedly as he felt the mud coating his frame start to dry in the warm afternoon sunlight. He was absolutely filthy - covered from helm to pede tip in thick, black mud and blades of grass, his glossy finish completely hidden, scratched and scraped from his rolling and writhing about. His faceplates had received an extra thorough coating, just for the Pit of it. This was so much better than being buffed and polished and stared at - he couldn't imagine how Tracks or Sunstreaker could stand it themselves. The organic planet had so much variety to it - so many different ecosystems for different creatures and so many variations on the same creature, hundreds of different breeds, hundreds of different colors and patterns - and the scout absolutely thrived on it. He reveled in the sensation of the chill, wet dirt first applied to heated plating, the smell of freshly crushed grass as he rolled about, the light breeze carrying birdsong overhead as he stared up at the lazily floating clouds. "Ah… much better…"

Trailbreaker chuckled from nearby, the bigger mech's legs coated in the same thick mud where he had waded into the mud pit to drag Hound out and away from his creation of an army of 'mud angels'. "Well that's a relief - I've never seen you in such a state, Hound. You looked ready to fritz."

"I was…" He struggled to sit, the caked mud cracking as he bent, but still wet enough to stay clinging to his plating. "'Raj has just been so… _strange_ since this happened. It's like… it's almost like he hid an entire different side of himself from me. I mean, we're Bondmates, for Primus' sake, there's not supposed to be any surprises at this point, right? I'm getting worried about it, too - what if it's actually something caused by what happened to us? Like… I turned into a sparkling because I match criteria set 'A'; and Mirage has a complete personality swap because he matches criteria set 'B'; and you… well, you match criteria set 'C' so Jazz puts you in charge of preparing the duty rosters."

Trailbreaker snorted, shaking his head. "Interesting theory, but I think I got an explanation for you."

Hound pushed himself to his feet, frowning as some of the mud fell off from the movements and wandering his creaky, crumbly way back to the edge of the mud pit for a fresh coat. "Oh, really? Enlighten me, then, 'Breaker."

"Well, let's look at what we already know: Mirage is a Tower's Mech, right? Towers Mechs love showing off - big parties, fancy paint jobs, all that nobility and 'I am above you, filthy peasant' act." He paused, watching Hound's pensive faceplates as he mulled over what the defense specialist was saying and then nodded for him to continue. "Let me illustrate one important factor of this situation," he quipped, grasping Hound by the scruff and lifted him out of the mud, letting him dangle for a few moments as the larger mech grinned at his captive. "You're a sparkling, as you've already said, and as we know, sparklings are always, _always_ cause for celebration - which means big, elaborate parties - and 'parties' are just Tower's lingo for 'showing off'." He settled the little jeep onto his lap, rubbing a thumb at the mud drying on his face, nudging it away from sensitive optic glass. "Now, a sparkling in the Towers is protoformed from the best materials, the most expensive precious metals, and no cost is spared to have the framework done by the most popular designer of the time. Then there's the best tech, the most complex and ingenious coding, the highest quality paints, most exotic and impossible-to-match colors. Now, you may not have the best of paints, or the sleekest and most artistic of chassis designs, Hound - neither do I, after all - but there's not been a protoformed sparkling seen in centuries by this crew, and Mirage, being the social butterfly he was raised to be, is taking the opportunity to show off. Not to mention, there's the added bonus of flaunting the fact that you're _his_ sparkling and not _theirs_ and that, no, they can't have you." He chuckled softly, offering a minute shake of his head. "Did you see the look he gave me in the Rec Room? I'll be the first to admit Mirage is beautiful, Hound, gorgeous even, I'll give you that, but that possessive glare of his is almost scary. He would have taken my head off if I had tried to get near you."

"'Raj isn't jealous, 'Breaker," Hound murmured quietly, faceplates set into a thoughtful frown. "He's just… He's got so little left that he can truly call _his_ that he gets a little…I don't want to call it 'greedy', that sounds so selfish, and he's really not…"

"I know, Dog. He just wants to be able to preen a bit and show you off."

"But…" Hound sighed, slumping slightly. "I don't _want_ to be paraded around and shown off…"

Trailbreaker chuckled. "Well, that's too bad, 'cause that's exactly what's going to happen. You're going to have to live with being clean and scrubbed and polished until you're big enough to fend him off again." He set the sparkling back on his feet at the edge of the mud hole. "Or you could just roll in the mud every chance you get, just to surge his circuits."

After inspecting his hand for a moment, Hound let his arm drop to his side, tilting his head in contemplation. "I guess you've got a point, 'Breaker. Besides, I've never seen him so happy. Honestly, it's kind of creepy how drastically different he is right now, but … but if it's really _him_, then I _want_ him to be that happy all the time!" He scrubbed roughly at the back of his helm, venting heavily, then all at once seemed to come to a conclusion and turned to Trailbreaker with a brilliant grin shining from those mud-covered faceplates. "And if he wants to clean me up, then I guess all I can do is _give_ him something to clean." Promptly, he threw himself back into the mud pit and rolled, over and over, until he was satisfied with the thickness of the organic slag covering him and stood, holding out his arms for display and beaming with pride at his state of absolute filth.

Trailbreaker chuckled. "I'm not going to see you for a week when we get back to base, I just know it."

--

"Hoooooooound…" Mirage's disbelieving groan met them at the entrance to the _Ark_, servos pinching the bridge of his nose in an expression of frustration the little scout had seen Optimus use frequently, but never seen his Bondmate imitate. "Oh, Primus, look at you… what a mess…"

Trailbreaker set the muddy sparkling on his feet just in front of the noble before taking a step back, grinning at the blue and white mech. "Is this yours? Found him in a mud puddle."

"Oh, I'm _certain_ you did…" Mirage's hands firmly gripped his hip plating, leaning forward slightly to glower at the larger black mech. "I'm also certain that you probably put him there. You're a bad influence on my Puppy."

"Now, 'Raj--" Hound blinked a bit at that last part, putting his tiny hands up in some vain attempt to fend back the scowling noble from trying to damage the larger bot. "I asked Trailbreaker to take me outside for a while. Please don't be upset - I just needed some time to think, this is really weird what's happening to the crew, you know."

At Hound's pleading little voice, blue shoulders wilted and the fight instantly drained from the mech's frame. His optics shuttered for a moment as he composed himself, then settled his amber gaze on the mud-covered sparkling. Mirage glanced over Hound's form for a moment, settling on muddy faceplates where bright, wide optics stared hopefully back, and then those lips twitched and both hands came up to cover his face trying hide the snort of amusement that broke free. "Oh, _Hound_…!" Laughter bubbled free from behind the delicate hands, "Wh-what a mess! You're so filthy!"

Trailbreaker grinned at Hound with a quick thumbs-up as he slipped past the quivering spy and escaped into the _Ark_. The scout scuttled closer to his Bondmate, a little concerned at the sudden attack of hilarity, but Mirage's behavior lately had been less than predictable at best. "'Raj, are you mad…?"

"Oh, Hound…" The somewhat hysterical laughter tapered off into breathless snickering. "How can I stay angry when you look so absolutely pitiful, you poor little thing?" He knelt to gingerly grasp the muddy sparkling and lifted him, holding him at arms' length with a smirk, shaking his head. "You're worse than ever - completely covered, helm to pede, and absolutely not sorry at all." Another chuckle and he grimaced slightly at the sensation of the half-dried mud as it came into contact with his own armor with Hound nestled close against his chestplates, pressing the little helm down atop his spark. "Straight to the wash racks with you, Puppy."

Hound giggled softly. "Yes, 'Raj."

The wash racks were all but empty when they arrived - Hound spied Trailbreaker's legs beneath one of the private stalls standing in a pool of thinned mud. Mirage ducked into the stall next to 'Breaker, allowing the built-up steam to loosen the mud on Hound's (and not to mention his own) armor plating as he adjusted the water temperature settings before turning on the spray. A mix of water and foaming solvent rained down on the pair and Hound lifted his arms out towards the spray, laughing at the sensation of the large globs of bubbly foam sticking to his chassis, piling on top of his helm. Once the majority of the mud had come off of the sparkling, Mirage turned off the spray and stepped out of the stall, both still covered in bubbles of solvent. "This is going to take a nice, long bath to get off of you, Hound."

Hound giggled lightly and clung to the spy's shoulder. "Just don't drop me - I'll sink like a rock in that bath. It's way too deep for me now."

"Trailbreaker," Mirage called over his shoulder, thoroughly startling the larger mech and similarly confusing the sparkling on his chest, "would you like to bathe with us? I need my hands free to scrub Hound so I need you to hold him for me."

A crimson visor peeked curiously out from the private stall. "…Seriously?"

The noblemech rolled his optics lightly. "You're the only one here, Trailbreaker. I do not feel _complete_ animosity towards you and it is far too strange a thing to go sending comm.'s around the _Ark_ for. Besides that, you are Hound's friend, and while you are uncouth, ill-mannered, and a terrible influence, he trusts you, and so you can't be _too_ terrible."

Trailbreaker grinned, chuckling as he emerged fully from the shower. "Wow, Mirage, that's almost a compliment, coming from you. I'm flattered."

Mirage smirked slightly, offering out the tiny jeep to the larger mech. "Here, I'll fetch the chamois and brushes, you start soaking him."

Trailbreaker nodded and slipped obediently into the pool of warm water the bots considered a communal bath tub. It was a massive thing, meant to hold up to four standard-sized bots at once, meaning it could hold six or seven minis or two shuttles, and the water was tinted pale lavender with fragrant solvents intended for relaxation rather than the bubbly mixture from the sprayers meant for thorough cleaning. Hound squeaked in surprise as he was dunked twice in the warm bath, completely submerged for a brief moment in much the same manner a human would dunk a donut in their coffee. The little jeep wiggled in the SUV's grasp, sputtering and blowing the water from his vents.

"Be careful with those bristles, Mirage," Trailbreaker chuckled, holding the sparkling scout out towards the noble as he dipped into the pool with them. "Hound's kind of ticklish on his pedes." Hound tried to bite at his fingers, embarrassed.

Mirage's optics narrowed and a ridge was held aloft as he regarded the defense specialist suspiciously. "And how, precisely, would you know that about _my_ Bondmate?"

"Because he's _my_ best friend," was the chuckled response, undeterred by the blue and white's distrustful gaze. "There's lots I know about him that other mechs wouldn't."

"Oh really?" Mirage set to scrubbing the little jeep who kept looking apprehensively between the two of them, expecting a fight to break out at any given moment and himself to be left floundering in the bath water. "Then I suppose you know just where to rub on his helm to make him drowsy for recharge?"

'Breaker grinned, shifting the sparkling into one arm to run a thick fingertip along the underside edge of Hound's helm. "Indeed, I do. The side edges are good for relaxing, but the back makes him really sleepy." Hound's optic shutters drooped slightly at the caress, head lolling forward. Challenge met, he eyed the noble with a smirk. "And I suppose _you_ know just how to rub his abdominal plating to make his engine purr?"

"Of course," 'Raj scoffed, pausing in his cleaning to drag his fingertips in little circles over the nervous sparkling's belly. Hound stiffened just slightly at the initial contact, startled out of his comfortable lull from his helmet, then melted against Trailbreaker's arm, small engine rumbling happily. "After all, he's _my_ Bondmate. Do you know where he's most sensitive?"

"On his nose - he can't stand for it to be touched, not even dust particles with his olfactory sensors. What's his favorite kind of mud since we landed on Earth?"

"That red clay nonsense he gets into every time he goes south for a mission - it's terrible trying to get the stains off of him and it dries into solid rock on his undercarriage. How does he--"

"Guys!" Hound interrupted the growing feud, waving his arms. "There's no need to fight - you both know me really… really well. I mean, _obviously_, if you're having such a silly fight over who knows me better, right? You're the two closest people in my life, and you're both very special to me… I hate it that you can't get along, though. Please… at least for right now, don't fight…"

The two larger mechs shifted about in embarrassment and Trailbreaker held out the sparkling jeep so they could continue his scrubbing. "Sorry, Hound…I'll be nice."

"Indeed… I shall remain civil out of respect that he is your friend, after all."

Hound nodded, smiling a bit, then glanced between them and his smile morphed to a mischievous grin. "You know," he started, rubbing his jaw pensively. "This position would be _a lot_ more interesting if I was my adult size right now…" The little jeep squealed, laughing, when Mirage's rebuttal was to scrub his brush briskly against the bottoms of Hound's pedes, both larger mechs refusing to look at one another, faceplates flushed.

* * *

A/N: OH! And I should probably mention, I totally ganked the idea of Bee playing peek-a-boo from optimus prime 007's story "Oops! What do you mean, oops!" Because, (OBVIOUSLY) I'm a sucker for mechs-turned-sparkling stories and I really didn't want Ratchet to be all "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAANGST" anymore.


	6. Coping Part 2

_**A/N:** Holy Hot Slag, it's been 3 months since I updated? Damn. I knew I had writer's block but I didn't think it'd be so damned persistent. So in hopes of making it up to you all, gentle readers, you get 2 chapters this time. I spent a lot of time dwelling on Perceptor and Red Alert in this chapter, so... if he seems a little OOC I hope you'll forgive me. Red's personality varies greatly on the 'drama' meter in every incarnation of him I read._

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers or any recognizable characters within yadda yadda yadda but we already knew that, right? _

* * *

Prowl drifted on the edge of consciousness, doorwings twitching feebly behind him, swinging freely in the air; soft orchestral music teased his audios from either side, and something warm held him nearly cocooned in a cozy embrace while the world swayed lazily beneath him. He tried to access his memory banks, systems booting up far more slowly than he would have liked, trying to remember the last time he'd felt so comfortable and safe, so relaxed. He struggled to raise his arms, whining softly with the effort and scrubbed weakly at his optics, the gentle swaying lulling him further and further towards his continued recharge cycle.

"Yer so stubborn, Prowler," Jazz rumbled affectionately from above him, the deep tenor (_Or perhaps it was a high bass…? Did he tune his module again…?_) of his voice reverberating through Prowl's small chassis in a pleasant wave of comfort. Prowl could feel the saboteur's fingers rubbing softly at his chestplates, down his midsection and legs, idly massaging his dainty peds before sliding back up and repeating, the sensation mildly dulled by the thick blanket covering him.

"I don't…" Prowl's vents hitched in a sudden weary yawn, shutters struggling to slide open from his optics. "I don't… want… to sleep anymore…" Even as he protested his head lolled slightly to the side, hands resting half-curled on either side of his head where they'd fallen, optics glowing dimly through the tiny slit in his shutters before darkening again. "I wanna… wake up…"

Jazz chuckled softly, tracing the cheek seams on the soft, pale silver face, idly noting the light blush of youth and sleep. "Yer still sleepy - just letchurself relax for now, yeah? Ain't nothin' goin' on dat ya need ta worry about."

Prowl squirmed fitfully in his little cocoon, optics finally opening, if only just barely, as he tugged at the straps crisscrossing over his belly. "I've been recharging all day…" he kicked lightly, starting to whimper as he struggled weakly within his swaying nest. "Please, Jazz…? Please let me out…?"

Jazz couldn't resist that pitiful, pleading little whimper, sounding so vulnerable - he wondered briefly if he was taking things too far in his playful teasing, or if it was simply the symptoms of the virus making Prowl sound so helpless. He pulled back the blanket from atop the little form, Prowl shivering as his warmth was taken away so suddenly, curling in on himself. Jazz tossed the blanket across his shoulder, unbuckling the straps that held the sparkling in place in the little swing, gently easing him out of the pillowed nest and up against his chestplates, wrapping him up in the soft blanket to calm his shivering. "Dere ya go, Prowler…izzat better?"

"Mm-hmm…" Jazz smiled as the tactician nuzzled wearily against his neck cables, moving to sit back at the desk, picking up the datapad he'd left off on.

"If ya nod off again, I'll put ya back in yer swing, okay? Y'seemed awful comfy in dere." The spy idly caressed between the twitching doors through the fleece blanket, resulting in a half-melted sparkling slumping against his shoulder.

"Where did you get it…?" Prowl barely groaned out the question, uncertain if he wanted to know the answer but still mildly curious - of all the embarrassing 'accessories' and contraptions he'd been threatened with so far, this one was… the least unpleasant.

"Carly's havin' more fun wit' dis than I am, y'know," he chuckled in response. "She brought Daniel's baby swing ta Grapple an' he scaled it up to fit ya, made some adjustments fo' yer wings, added some speakers an' dat cute lil' mobile ya seemed ta like so much." He nudged the aforementioned mobile, sending spots of colored light dancing over the floor beneath the swing from the brightly colored crystals dangling by thin strings. The crystals bumped one another from time to time, offering a soft, tinkling chime with each hit, but mostly they spun about and cast their dimly glowing light upon the swing, having thoroughly mesmerized the sparkling when he first saw them.

"Oh…" Prowl stretched, shaking off the last remnants of sleep as his optics focused and brightened, nuzzling idly against Jazz's shoulder. "You just want me to recharge so you can do my work for me…"

"Guilty as charged, y'honor - can't take ya to _your_ office, so we gotta come to mine." Jazz settled Prowl into his lap, bouncing him softly. "Ya looked so comfy in yer lil' swing I started thinkin' maybe we should get a big one fer ya when yer back to normal."

"I think not…"

"Aw, but ya'd look so cute all tucked up cozy-like. Ya slept pretty soundly there, Prowler, ain't seen ya recharge _that_ deep in a long while."

"I suppose I was simply overdue for a full recharge."

"Y'sure ya don't want one fo' ya quarters?" Jazz grinned, prodding the little tactician playfully.

Prowl gazed flatly at the saboteur coupled with an irate huff of his vents. "Unless _you_ are going to be the one using it, Jazz, I do not wish to see any more Cybertronian-sized human baby products."

Jazz seemed to mull it over for a moment. "Did look _awful_ cozy…" He chuckled at Prowl's expression of disbelief, shaking his head as he reached across the desk to grab one of the prepared Energon bottles. "Nah, s'okay. I'm just teasin', y'know dat." He nudged the bottle towards the sparkling, humming happily at the lack of fuss and fight when Prowl simply latched on and settled back against Jazz's arm, suckling quietly.

Prowl tried to force the image from his processor, tried to think of anything else, but the thought of Jazz curled up in an oversized swing, legs dangling off the edge, recharging so soundly he might as well be deactivated, struck him as rather funny and stuck resolutely in his mind. He snorted softly, covering it quickly with a cough, pushing the bottle away. Jazz tilted him up, patting softly at his back, "Easy dere, Prowler. Take it slow." Prowl only nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he settled back with his fuel. The office was quiet but for the sounds of the sparkling's nursing and the soft music still playing from the speakers of the swing, to which Jazz absently reached over with his foot and nudged the control pad to turn it off, reclining back in his chair with the tiny Datsun, rubbing tenderly at the sparkling's belly with a finger until the bottle was empty which he pulled away with a little 'pop'.

Jazz placed the finish datapad on the ever-growing pile to the left of his desk, reaching for another from the inbox. He scanned over it for a moment then let it sink to the desk and stood. "Ugh… Primus but I hate paperwork. I think it's time for a break, anyway, now dat yer awake."

Prowl stared longingly at the pile of datapads yet to be completed, but made little protest as he was carried out of the office, knowing it would do no good at this point and probably just land him back in the swing for more recharge, and snuggled down against the saboteur's chestplates. Jazz's additions to his arsenal of baby products were beginning to seem terribly… long-term, and the notion unsettled the Datsun that perhaps his Bonded was simply preparing himself for the worst…or for the inevitable… "Do you think this is permanent, Jazz…?" The spy glanced down at the anxiety in the sparkling's voice. "Do you think… I'll ever be… that we can…?"

Jazz shifted Prowl to kiss him softly on his helm, then his cheek, "Nah, Wheeljack's workin' as hard as 'e can, Prowl, 'e won't letcha down."

"I worked so hard to be useful, Jazz…" tiny hands clutched at the white chestplates, burying his face against the familiar blue stripes. "I don't know if I can handle it all being taken away like this… I…" Jazz's fingers sought out the little doors yet again as the tactician's vents hitched softly, his voice starting to quiver and fill with static. "I… won't be _useless_, Jazz… I won't be a useless glitch…"

"Prowler…" Jazz cooed softly, tucking the crying sparkling beneath his chin as he strolled the corridor, "y'ain't a glitch, love, an' y'ain't useless. You'll be back to normal in no time, trust me, an' since y'don't want a big one, we'll jes' hang on ta that swing for our own lil' sparklin's."

Prowl snuffled softly, glancing uncertainly up towards the saboteur, "Y-you… want sparklings…? With me…?"

"Aw, Prowl… love… ya've lost all yer confidence…" Jazz smiled at him reassuringly, palming open the door to the rec room. "O' course I want sparklin's with ya - I'd love havin' a lil' doorwinger runnin' 'round underfoot, causin' mischief, paintin' yer office purple…"

"Why purple…?"

"I'unno. Seemed like a good choice. Why'd you pick up on the color but not the paintin'?"

"Because, Jazz, with you, there's simply no avoiding it…I've learned to live with that fact after the first three times you painted my office."

Jazz snickered, flopping gracelessly down on the couch, grinning brightly at the mildly startled Bluestreak. "Heyas, Blue."

Bluestreak's face quickly morphed from wide-optic'd surprise to bright, beaming delight as he registered Jazz and the tiny sparkling Prowl cuddled against his chestplates. "Hi Jazz! Hi Prowl! Oh Prowl you're so tiny! You're just so cute with your little doors - oh I hope that's not strange for me to say, since you're my commanding officer and all but… but… I guess it's really up to you if you're okay with me calling you 'cute' and 'adorable' because, y'know, you _are_ and--"

"Bluestreak…" Prowl sighed softly, shaking his head. "It's alright - Jazz has been calling me far worse, far more frequently."

Jazz chuckled, reaching for the remote. "It's breaktime, Blue. Wanna watch with us?" The screen which had been mindlessly playing some fiery action movie flickered through its channels before resting on something decidedly more colorful.

Prowl's optic ridge twitched upward at the cartoonish characters and the slightly off-key singing. "Jazz… what is _that_…?"

"PBS." Cheerfully chirped, Jazz seemed all too delighted with his answer. "Lil'n's like deze shows. They're 'educational'."

"Jazz… oh Primus…" Prowl struggled his way out of his lap, only to be caught up by Bluestreak with a soft laugh, the gunner idly teasing the tiny doorwings as he settled the squirming sparkling into his lap. "This is… the swing was mildly acceptable, the bottles I'll endure, but _this_…! Jazz! How can you stand that noise, I thought you _liked_ music!"

Jazz giggled, ticking his fingers back and forth in time with the song, picking up on the predictable lyrics easily. Bluestreak joined him, both mechs swaying side to side in an exaggerated display of amusement. Prowl sulked. "This isn't music, you know!" he protested, writhing for escape. "This is… this is human caterwauling!"

"It's kids' music, Prowl," Bluestreak giggled, nestling the Datsun on the couch between himself and Jazz. "They have kids sing sometimes for the smaller kids' shows, too, but that's mostly on the older shows."

Prowl eyed him suspiciously. "How much television are you watching, Bluestreak?"

Bluestreak blushed suddenly, glancing away. "W-well… I don't ever, you know, _actively_ try to watch any particular show, it's just whatever happens to be on and most of the time it's cartoons or puppet shows or… w-well, you know, Daniel likes to watch a lot of these shows and… and…I've _never_ watched 'Barney', swear to Primus I haven't, it really kind of creeps me out, and I think Wheeljack has it blocked anyway, because Grimlock once saw it and… well it was a very unsettling day…"

"Hey! My show is on!" Cliffjumper scurried to the group, squirming his way between the arm of the couch and the saboteur. "Aw, Jazz, I thought you said you wouldn't watch it without me!"

"Sorry, 'Jumper, didn't realize it was dat late already."

Prowl twitched, a hard flinch that caused Jazz and Bluestreak both to glance down at him in concern. "Whoops," Jazz murmured, tilting Prowl's head to study his optics, "there went a logic circuit."

"You all… watch… cartoons…" Prowl stated very slowly, optic shutter twitching rapidly.

"Don't crash on me, Prowler." Jazz hefted him up against his chestplates, kneading his helm with his fingertips. "It ain't all _that_ unusual - seems to make up more'n half of human entertainment."

"You… have a deal… with Cliffjumper… to watch… cartoons together…?"

"Yeah, an' Blue, an' a few other mechs - it's a popular pastime. Hound likes ta watch a show called 'Zoboomafoo' 'cause it's got all sortsa baby Earth critters on it."

"And it's hosted by a monkey!" Bluestreak chirped helpfully.

"Cliffjumper," Prowl repeated, a bit incredulously.

Cliffjumper sulked at the end of the couch, seeming thoroughly embarrassed, his faceplates flushed nearly as red as his armor, arms folded defiantly across his chestplates. "Yeah? And? You gonna reprimand me for it? Am I breaking protocol somehow?"

"No… it's just…" Prowl flinched again, his head slumping against Jazz's chest for a moment. "Unexpected, is all…"

Jazz waited for the inevitable crash, watching Prowl's optics closely. "Y'okay, Prowl…?"

The tactician nodded slowly, pushing himself back from the white plating. "Yes… my battle computer is on low-priority, so I was able to avoid a crash in my logic centers… though not without a few burnt relays." He glanced sheepishly between the three mechs, then sighed and turned to sit on Jazz's lap facing the television. "Well, let's see what enthralls you three so."

Jazz chuckled. "Oh dis is nothin'. Y'know dat Optimus watches 'Sesame Street', don't ya?"

* * *

"It'll be fine, Red, no one's tryin' to sabotage yer chair or yer desk or yer monitors - they're jes' concerned." Inferno's rumbling voice and strong, kneading hands on his shoulders were a balm to the jittery mech's processor, the fire truck smiling reassuringly at Red Alert. "Besides, this is the perfect chance for yah to spend some real time with Percy." He gestured towards the sparkling lying belly-down beneath the berth. Perceptor had gathered a collection of various tiny bugs into mason jars (rather _large_ jars, Inferno mused, wondering just why Carly had so damn many) and was busily scribbling their names on each one with a black marker - Coccinella septempunctata; Tegenaria domestica: Tineola bisselliella; Pholcus phalangioides; Musca domestica; Tetramorium caespitum.

"Perceptor, what are you doing?" Red Alert crouched down to peer beneath the berth at the sparkling, smiling softly at the bright optics that lifted to greet him.

"I am cataloguing various specimens of Earth insects and arachnids for my datapad that I am compiling." The small scientist's legs idly swung back and forth, picking up one of his jars to peer curiously at the spider inside. "Though I will need to procure some supplies for their temporary ecosystems and food sources - I do not wish for them to perish at all, if possible, but especially not before I have finished my evaluations."

"Then why don'tcha take him out to the park, Red?" Inferno rumbled, chuckling softly. "It'll be good fer the both'a yah ta get some sunshine ferra while." The fire truck's optics dimmed as he checked his chronometer. "Spike usually comes around lookin' fer a ride to Daniel's school about this time - why don't yah take him today?"

"Perhaps - though I dislike allowing the humans inside my alt form… it is… a very peculiar sensation…" A small shudder rippled through the Lamborghini.

"Percy, yah wanna go to the park with Daniel today?" Inferno pulled the sparkling out by his small ped, chuckling softly at the little squeak of surprise it elicited.

Perceptor, once the question had sunk in from the sudden change in scenery, smiled brightly and gave a vigorous nod, scrambling to his feet, arms outstretched and awaiting to be picked up by one of the larger mechs. "Yes, thank you - that will perfectly allow me to gather all the specimens and supplies that I shall require for my observations."

Inferno gathered the little scientist up, chuckling softly as he handed him off to Red Alert. "There yah go, Red. Now y'all two have fun - I got patrol duty while y'all're out so take yer time."

"Farewell, Inferno - I do hope your patrol is safe and uneventful."

Inferno chuckled again, pressing in to plant a lingering kiss upon Red's mouth, just long enough for the sparkling scientist to shift uncomfortably at the display. "I'll send Spike yer way - go ahead and wait for 'im in the Rec Room, alright?"

Red Alert gave a short nod, shifting Perceptor up to rest against his shoulder as Inferno wandered off down the hallway to his shift, Red's head tilted slightly with a small, secretive sort of grin until the black hip plating disappeared around the corner and out of his line of sight. Once realization settled into the diminutive microscope's processor as to exactly what Red Alert had been admiring, Perceptor could only hide his face in his hands and hope that his blush went away soon.

Red gave a short, soft chuckle at the sparkling's reaction, patting his back gently. "My apologies, Perceptor - I shall strive to remain professional."

"No need to apologize - you are bonded, after all…" the meek little voice was muffled by the hands still hiding his face. "I shall strive to be… less embarrassed by your displays of affection. It's not my place to interfere in your interactions with your Bondmate."

"You are far from interfering. In fact, though sad it is that I must admit this, I've spent more time with Inferno since we began looking after you than I have in the last several months - if anything, having you around is encouraging our interactions." He gave a light chuckle, shaking his head, "Perhaps we should adopt you permanently, Perceptor - it has been a terribly long time since I have seen Inferno with that little grin of his; the one he gets when he's thinking about some big secret. The last time I saw it was just before we bonded - not to mention right _after_ the ceremony…" The Lambo gave a soft laugh at Perceptor's sudden groan, the scientist's blushing face thoroughly buried in his palms.

"I do apologize, Red Alert, but… this is…"

"It's 'mushy stuff', right?" Small, bright optics lifted questioningly at the Security Director. "That's what Daniel calls his parents' interactions - kissing, hugging, and more intimate acts, they are simply lumped under the category of 'mushy stuff' that seems to make him groan much as you are now."

"I see," Perceptor mused momentarily, tilting his head to the side as he thought it over. "I… believe that is as good a term as any, considering the organic origin of the word. Perhaps a Cybertronian equivalent is in order…?"

"If you like." Red Alert glanced about the corridor as they strolled towards the Refectory, considering each small opening of the walls - loose panels under maintenance, vents from the climate controls, dents from the latest hallway-brawl and paint scrapes from… well, no need to go into _that_, though judging by the colors he certainly didn't see that pairing being a possibility. When did those scrapes happen? It looked fresh - it must have been shortly after he was evicted from his office. Perceptor was small enough, he mused, that he could send the miniature scientist into the vents to install cameras where other bots couldn't reach - it would certainly help to alert them to the Cassetticons' annoyingly repetitive visits to their base. Why did they have air vents at all? Surely the only place they were _needed_ would be right outside Wheeljack's lab - in fact, the vents were a risk! Should the engineer create some sort of corrosive gas either on accident or in a malicious declaration of his changed allegiance, it could be sent into the vents and infect the whole ship - not even Teletraan I would be safe! And if such corrosive gas were _flammable_, the heat from the ignited fumes would not only destroy the entire _Ark_, but if it was hot enough, could it set off the otherwise dormant volcano? And why the _Pit_ were they still living in a volcano, for the love of Primus?! Does no one realize what danger they're putting themselves into by just _living_ here? What sort of organic bacteria exist in a volcano - perhaps something that was feeding off the _Ark_'s hull, mutating and just waiting for a chance to--

"Red Alert…?" Red flinched just slightly at the small hand caressing his sparking horns, turning to gaze questioningly at the bright optics staring at him from his shoulder. "Are you feeling well, Red Alert? It is not a _necessity_ for us to leave the _Ark_ if you do not wish… I do not wish to aggravate your … condition."

Red Alert offered a small sigh as he tucked the sparkling beneath his chin, rubbing softly at Perceptor's back. "No need to worry, Perceptor. I could do with the 'fresh air'. Ratchet, and now First Aid as well, are forever harping at me to take some time away from my monitors. Ratchet swears that they are going to cause my optics to short out."

Perceptor nestled happily against the warm cables in the Lamborghini's neck, giving a soft giggle. "He says the same about me and my microscope."

Red offered a short chuckle. "It appears you and I are kindred spirits, Perceptor - both of us dedicated to our work, both of us underappreciated and, dare I say without sounding cliché, misunderstood."

Perceptor heaved a small sigh, nodding. "I doubt anyone still remembers my Corro-stop that cured the Cosmic Rust since I cannot synthesize any more of it. I doubt there is anything they shall remember me for when I am gone, except perhaps to call me a 'geek' as they have so often…"

Red Alert shook his head. "Do not allow their cruelty to injure you so, Perceptor - just because they are small-processored fools does not give them the right to taunt you, and it certainly doesn't make it true." He smiled to himself, feeling the sparkling nestle just that much closer to his neck, turning his head to rub his cheek fondly against the top of Perceptor's helm.

The Rec Room was busy this time of day, far too busy for Red Alert's liking, as nearly every bot on base seemed to be crowding into the confining walls, some lounging at the end of their shift, others just trying to get a cube of Energon before the start of theirs, and some realizing they were late and bolting from the room amid the laughter of their comrades. No sign of the human as of yet, Red Alert scrutinized the room as he made his way through the waves of bodies milling about, chatting, laughing, yelling at one another across the tables or from opposite ends of the room. It was loud, and busy, and yet it was unusually quiet by comparison to its normal roar, with the twins out of commission there was no one to send the minibots hurtling through the air, no one to prompt a mass-brawl and break the tables, no one to re-enact scenes from Monty Python or get overcharged during the middle of the day and tango across the tabletops.

Huh.

Primus forbid, it was an almost _military_ feeling.

"Time for you to refuel, Perceptor." Red shifted the sparkling into the crook of his arm as he filled a cube from the dispenser, carefully tilting it for the sparkling to drink. The tiny hands that settled onto the sides to steady the cube would never be able to maneuver it alone and it left Red Alert wondering, briefly, if he should contact Jazz about one of those bottles he had for Prowl. They were certainly more convenient - no risk of spilling, but surely they were not made of the common Earth materials and how would that effect the Energon within? Would it react to the chemical changes that such alternate materials would cause? Would it become _more_ volatile - or even poisonous?

Well… maybe not poisonous, since Prowl hasn't died yet. Nor has Ironhide. Red Alert's optics refocused from his internal monologue to stare into the worried, brightened optics of the sparkling in his arms, Energon forgotten as little hands stroked and soothed the sparking helm. Red Alert sighed softly, setting aside the near-empty cube before collecting the tiny servos in one hand and gently pressing them to the scientist's chestplates. "Thank you, Perceptor… I'm feeling better now."

"You should refuel as well, Red Alert. But perhaps it would be better if we were to stay aboard the _Ark_ today… my specimens can wait until Inferno has the time available to--"

"No, we are going to the park today." Red Alert gave a firm nod, mostly to confirm it with himself, and filled another cube from the dispenser. "You were very excited about the prospect and I will not be able to avoid feeling guilty when you sit around in our boring berthroom looking disappointed and sad with your bug-jars." He emptied the cube in a few gulps and set it back into the stack for recycling. "Now where is that human…?"

--

The drive to Daniel's school was a bit longer than Red would have liked, measuring the distance between himself and the _Ark_ in centimeters, similarly counting the distance to known Decepticon territories from the human education center. He would have made some commentary of it to Spike, suggesting he be more vigilant over his offspring's time in the center, but he was loathe to speak up and startle the dozing sparkling nestled into his passenger seat, simply tightening the seat belt around Perceptor's increasingly limp form. The little scientist slumped fully down in the seat with a sigh, nuzzling the belt strap near his face as he dropped offline.

"Little guy looks pretty beat," Spike mused quietly from the driver's side seat, idly tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and pretending to be driving for the sake of those around them. "Bumblebee could tell you stories about Carly's late night drives to get Daniel to sleep when he was a baby…"

"This was a common occurrence?" Red Alert kept his voice low, emitting from only one speaker closest to Spike.

"Yeah, babies are notorious for not sleeping at night, especially if they're sick or teething, and a car ride is usually just the ticket to lull them to sleep. Daniel got to the point where we were taking him for a drive every night - poor Bumblebee was as exhausted as we were for nearly two months."

"Ah yes, I remember that - Ratchet had him on light duty because of his disturbed recharge cycles and he fell off of his chair in the security hub and dented his olfactory sensor on one of the control panels."

Spike snorted a laugh, covering his mouth. "Poor 'Bee!"

Red Alert shifted his seat, reclining the back halfway and tilting it up so the hunched sparkling sprawled limp across the leather, Spike arranging Perceptor's limbs more comfortably across his chassis with a light chuckle. "You guys are going to end up giving Carly ideas, you know. Daniel's not going to be an only child for long at this rate."

The elementary school was a maze of sedans and minivans, children running amuck between the vehicles as their respective guardians tried to keep them out of the way of traffic, small groups held together on the sidewalk by the teachers until the proper parent was in sight. Spike patted Red Alert's wheel lightly as he stepped out of the raising door and around to the passenger side, smiling and waving to the woman trying to weed Daniel out from the middle of the group. "Afternoon!"

The middle-aged woman took in the sight of the car, eyes sweeping back and forth across the sleek frame, a hand to her chest as she offered a breathless sigh of appreciation. "Oh my! Mr. Witwicky, that's such a gorgeous car! A Lamborghini - how exotic!"

"Why, thank you," Red Alert chirped, nudging the half-asleep Perceptor towards Spike so he could transform, kneeling down in front of the woman. "From what I understand of Human standards, you're rather lovely yourself."

Daniel giggled madly - his teacher seemed beside herself: half terrified, half enchanted as Red Alert daintily took her hand between index and thumb in a warm greeting. Other drivers were leaning out of their windows for a better look, the children laughing and cheering at seeing an Autobot so close despite Prime's constant PR sessions with the young children and their schools. "Missus Magilicutty, this is our friend Red Alert. He's an Autobot." Once his laughter had died down, he gazed appraisingly at the large bot, "I'm surprised, Red Alert - I never thought I'd see you outside the Command Center."

Red Alert offered a huff, leaning over to take the waking sparkling from Spike's somewhat unsteady grasp before standing. "First Aid called upon his brothers to forcefully eject me from the Security Room for a joor," he grumbled, audio receptors blinking once as he chanted Inferno's mantra in his processor, willing back his glitch. _They're just worried, it's okay, nothing bad will happen…_ It simply wouldn't do to find himself stuck in a processor loop in front of the humans and require First Aid to make the trip to repair him. "And Inferno suggested I leave base for a while, so when Spike came asking for a ride to your school, I volunteered."

"WOW! What is _that_?!" All previous explanations cast aside, Daniel pointed excitedly to the sparkling struggling against his recharge cycle in Red's arms. Red Alert smiled fondly at the tiny bot, shifting him to rest on his shoulder. "This is Perceptor… there's been a bit of… an accident at the base, I'm sure your parents told you about it."

"Oh right, Ironhide and the others…"

"Indeed." He rubbed Perceptor's chin lightly as he woke, smiling a bit as he handed him back down to Spike and transformed, lifting both doors for the humans. "We should be getting out of the way before we are compromised - I do not wish to hinder traffic any longer." Daniel clambered into the seat with his backpack while Spike eased himself into the driver's side with Perceptor in his lap, bright optics peering curiously out at the chattering crowd of human children. Red Alert eased his way around the maze of humans and their respective machinery, a small shudder of relief passing through his frame once the spacious highway greeted him.

Daniel talked animatedly about his day to his father, pantomiming certain key events or rummaging through his bag for evidence as they drove. Perceptor remained pressed against the window, microscope twitching back and forth with each failed attempt to focus on some passing bit of foliage, optics darting to and fro across the landscape. "You'll send yourself into information overload at this rate," Red scolded him lightly. Perceptor obligingly eased back from the window, wiggling down into the seat beside Daniel with a quiet sigh. "Are we very far from our destination?"

_Are we there yet?_ Red Alert mentally rolled his optics, uncomfortably reminded of a newly-enlisted Sideswipe impatiently nudging his elders from behind during base movements. _Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?_ "Our ETA is oh-point-three-six breams, Perceptor. It won't be much longer."

Seeming satisfied with the response, Perceptor nestled back against the seat's leather, half-listening to Daniel telling him about all the things to do on the playground. Perceptor reminded him that despite being human sized as a sparkling, he was still probably too big to play in the plastic tunnels the youngling so wanted to drag him through.

The park was mostly a large open field dotted with trees, off to one side a series of swings and slides and tubes sat nestled within a confined border filled with sand where several human children crowded one another to get across the hanging bars or to be next on the twisting slide. The rest of the space was completely deserted, seeming unkempt but for the trimmed state of the grass and the borders surrounding several nearby trees holding colorful flowers within. Before Red Alert had even come to a full stop the human child was trying to throw his passenger door open for escape, dragging the only slightly-resistant scientist with him. A brief scolding about waiting for the car to stop was promptly ignored as the boy raced away with Perceptor in tow.

Red Alert sighed, stretching as he transformed into root mode. He made a quick glance around the area, judging the layout of the trees, the road, the visibility, idly pondering if he could get a steady camera signal from this far from the base. Inferno would groan if he suggested such a thing and bemoan (playfully, of course) that Red loved his cameras more than he loved him and that he would be tapped into the whole state's police cameras if he could get permission from Prime. The latter was definitely true but Prime, no matter the logic behind it, wouldn't allow him to do so - something about an invasion of the human's privacy - and because of that he was forced to try to make up for a strategic disadvantage using what he currently had. Some days it seemed like a fruitless endeavor: no matter how he built the mousetrap, they always built a better mouse.

Hm. A mouse; an organic creature so small as to be almost invisible to the naked Cybertronian optic and definitely too small to register on the proximity scanners. Mice were prone to chewing on things the humans didn't want them to eat - including wires to computers and other important devices. If the Decepticons bred and trained an army of mice to infiltrate the base they could easily destroy Teletraan and the _Ark_ would be defensel--

"Red Alert? Are you alright?" The Security Director shook himself back to reality at the soft, concerned voice. His optics focused with some difficulty down at the scientist in front of him, only to refresh in a double-take at the sight. Perceptor was covered, completely, helm to ped, with a thin layer of mud coated liberally with sand. Daniel stood behind him, beaming up at his father, similarly dirty on the legs of his jeans but nowhere near the same state as the sparkling. Taking to his knee, Red Alert scanned over the small figure for a moment, quietly, and then started to laugh.

"Perceptor…" Red Alert chuckled heartily, unable to sound even remotely scolding as he pulled out a cleaning cloth and began to scrub at the dirt covering the sparkling. "What in the universe…"

"I found several new specimens of fungi for my collection!" He held up a double handful of mushrooms for both bot and humans to see, beaming with delight. "They are so small that I could not previously see them without the use of my microscope and even then, well… I am often easily distracted by the microscopic world."

"Those are real nice, Perceptor," Spike murmured, pulling Daniel's hand away when he reached to touch them, "but be careful with them - two of those are poisonous to us humans."

"Oh! Indeed, I shall be most careful with them! I shall simply stow them in my subspace compartment and… and… um…" Percy stared, befuddled, at his hands when he found his subspace inaccessible. "Oh my… I forgot that sparklings do not have access to subspace compartments until they are much older…" He wilted, looking sadly at his prizes, shifting his feet in the grass. Glancing around for inspiration on how to carry them home, he wilted a little further and even whimpered despairingly.

Red Alert smiled fondly at the sparkling, holding out the cleaning cloth spread across his hands. "Put them here, Percy, and I'll keep them for you." The little scientist's optics lit up in delight as he deposited the mushrooms carefully on the cloth and folded the edges around them. He thanked Red Alert profusely and turned to return to his explorations, cringing just slightly when Red called after him, "No frogs, though! Or bugs or any other living organic things…I'm not keeping those in my compartments." Red shuddered slightly at the thought of such things moving and writhing about inside his chassis.

Spike chuckled softly, shaking his head as Red Alert settled onto the grass next to him, reclining back against one of the trees, mindful of the bed of flowers. "Not much fazes Perceptor, huh? Ironhide wasn't taking it nearly as well."

"I noticed," Red Alert struggled to stifle his mirth. "That last outfit I was certain would be his breaking point."

Spike snickered, "I thought he was going to blow a gasket for sure. I don't know how Carly got away with it."

"Perhaps Perceptor should have a little outfit like that," Red mused with a grin.

"If you get some measurements to her, I'm sure she'd be more than happy to oblige. She's already gotten to Mirage for Hound's figures. The poor mech, he's going to be so embarrassed later…"

"I shall be certain to save the recordings of it."

"Are you allowed to do that?" Spike arced an eyebrow at the mech, hugging Daniel to his side as the youngling flopped down with a weary sigh.

"Not exactly, according to protocol," he glanced sidelong at the humans, "but Sigma knows Prime enjoys a good laugh at times from some of my security footage. One of the better ways to keep him informed of the rumor mill aboard the _Ark_."

After a moment's contemplative silence, Spike dropped his voice to a low murmur. "So what does it cost to get a copy of said against-the-regulations-and-Prowl-shall-not-know-of-it footage?"

"I'm appalled, Spike," Red Alert pressed a hand to his chassis over his spark, "wounded, in fact, for you to suggest that I, a senior officer of Prime's crew, not to mention an officer of the law, could be _bribed_."

"I'll tell you what Carly's making for Hound - and Prowl too. And when to expect the delivery."

"In that case, it is simply a matter of information beneficial to base security, an even exchange, if you will." Spike wasn't entirely sure, since he'd never seen it on the mech before, but he thought he saw a hint of a sly grin on the Lambo's lips and a slightly devious gleam from the blue optics.

The afternoon passed swiftly into twilight, much to Red Alert's dismay. He was surprised at himself to find a vague sensation of disappointment lurking in the back of his processor as he flipped on his headlights and pulled away from the park. Perceptor was an energetic little ball of protoform the whole afternoon, running to and fro to collect his samples, some pulled out of the dirt with much of the surrounding earth to preserve the roots, and hand them off to Red Alert for safe keeping. A couple were refused - such as a small group of snails he had found lurking beneath the sprinkler near the play area - but most were tucked away into subspace for their return trip to the base. Even now the little scientist was describing what plant was going into which habitat for what specimen and in what quantity and how he thought he could synthesize a proper nutritional substitute for them rather than feed them to one another. His chatter slowed during the drive until it had been lulled into a sleepy mumble, head lolling against his chest, optics dim.

Inferno met them at the entrance, chuckling at the sight of Perceptor, still filthy, soundly recharging against a similarly-dirty Daniel in Red's seat. Spike gathered up his offspring and whisked away inside while Inferno bundled Perceptor into his arms, offering to his a bondmate a fond but mischievous grin, murmuring with great detail about how he would help Red clean his interior, oftentimes switching to his comm. link when something especially graphic was being suggested. Red Alert found himself scuttling off to his Security hub to hide his heated faceplates and preserve some shred of his professional demeanor, only to be captured by the elbow and dragged away to the washracks. Neither the mech nor the sparkling could go to bed in such a state, Inferno claimed.

--

Some time during the night, Inferno onlined his optics to the sound of soft whimpering, noticing a distinct lack of mini-scientist in their berth as he sat himself up, gazing about the darkened room for the sparkling. "Percy…? Where yah at?"

Perceptor peeked out from beneath the berth, optics wide and bright, the light catching the trails of cleanser fluid streaking the little bot's soft cheeks. Inferno eased himself out of the berth to kneel on the floor, inspecting Perceptor for damage. "What's the matter, Percy? Did yah fall outta bed? Have a bad dream?"

"No…" the little scientist snuffled, scrubbing his optics on his forearms with a soft sob.

"What's wrong? Why're yah cryin'?"

Perceptor retreated beneath the berth for a moment, pulling out one of his many gathered specimen jars, holding it up for Inferno to see. Inside the freshly arranged ecosystem of the jar, a fairly large spider lay curled on its back, legs tucked inward in its death. "He… he expired…" Another quiet sob shook the sparkling. "I killed him…"

"Aw, Percy…" Inferno took the jar, setting it aside to gather the sparkling into his arms. "Yah didn't kill 'im, he jus'… organics ain't as hardy as we are, y'know, an' sometimes stress'll do 'em in. It ain't yer fault, yah did all ya could ta make 'im comfy."

"I removed him from his habitat, I ensured his death…" Perceptor pressed his optics to Inferno's plating, small shoulders shaking with the force of his weeping.

Inferno settled onto the edge of the berth with the sparkling, glancing apologetically towards Red Alert's sleepy but concerned optics. "Yah've had specimen die on yah before, Percy - sometimes it jus' happens."

"But… but this one… His name was Sydney…and I got him the best plants for his habitat that I could find… and he… I was…"

"Aaaah, I see," Inferno crooned, settling with his back braced against the wall, Red Alert tucking up against his side. "Yah liked this'n, right? He was yer buddy."

"Uh huh…" a tiny nod, voice quivering and filled with static, Perceptor clutched feebly at the fire engine's plating with trembling hands.

"Poor lil' fella." Inferno twisted to allow Red Alert to take the shivering scientist, tucking him under his chin and stroking soothingly along the sparkling's plating. "Tell yah what, Percy - tomorrow mornin' we'll take 'im out an' have a proper Earth burial for 'im, alrigh'?"

A small nod was all he offered, optics pressed against Red Alert's neck cables, his quivering sobs softening as Red carefully massaged the tiny shoulders and back plating, gently shushing the distraught scientist. "Shhhh… shhh…Come now, Perceptor… you'll feel better after you recharge…"

"I shall miss him…"

"I know… we shall all miss… 'Sydney'." Red Alert seemed bemused by what he was saying, even as he said it, and glanced towards Inferno's small grin with a raised optic ridge. Inferno gestured discreetly to the jar set aside on the small table, to which Red gave a short nod. "He was a good… insect. He shall be sorely missed."

"Sydney is an arachnid…"

"Then he was an even better arachnid than he was an insect and shall be remembered for his … ah… sacrifice in the pursuit of scientific knowledge."

"Uh huh…" the sparkling's optics were dim, his trembling finally ceasing as his shutters slid closed, nestling snugly beneath Red Alert's chin. The Security Director gave a sigh and glanced towards Inferno's muffled chuckling only to roll his optics as he squirmed down to lay flat on the berth. "Hush, you, I got flustered."

"It's cute izzall, Red." He leaned down to kiss his helm, stroking fondly over the sparkling's head as well. "Poor lil' fella, he's held out so well 'til now. I figured somethin' had to get to him 'bout this."

"Yes but… a spider? Really?" Red Alert gave a soft yawn as he tucked the mechling close against his spark, planting a soft, comforting kiss on the dark helm.

"Percy's always been kinda sensitive. It ain't his fault it's just a bit worse right now." He nestled close, wrapping his arms around both Red Alert and the slumbering sparkling. "It's jes' cute seein' yah like that, givin' a eulogy fer 'im."

"I won't be doing it for his burial in the morning, if that's what you're implying."

"Nah," he chuckled, nuzzling contentedly into his mate's shoulder. "I'll get Prime to do it."

* * *

Skyfire sighed heavily, staring at the monitor screen running the diagnostic report, willing it to go faster. He stood on his tiptoes to see it better, still unable to quite touch the device, and gave a soft growl of frustration. "First I'm too big to fit and now I'm too small to reach - there is no happy medium!" The engineer only chuckled softly from his slumped position against the bench, head resting lazily on his forearm as the computer continued its analysis, optics roving idly over the pudgy mechling reaching for the screen. Smirk unseen, Wheeljack reached out and lightly poked the little round midsection of the sparkling shuttle.

Skyfire squeaked, leaping away backwards from the workbench with a startled laugh, clutching his belly. "Wheeljack! Don't do that!"

The engineer drew his hand back with a sheepish grin, fins flashing a faint hint of pink at being scolded by the sparkling. "Sorry, Skyfire. I can't help it." He chuckled, reaching towards the pudgy little midsection again, fingers wiggling threatening while Skyfire scuttled backwards, chortling nervously as he fended off the larger bot's hands. "It's such an easy target, it's hard to resist."

"We should be working!" The little shuttle protested, scrambling away from Wheeljack's still-reaching hand as the engineer slunk out of his seat to chase after the little mech. "This isn't a time to play, Wheeljack!"

"We won't be able to process at all if we don't take a break for a bream or two, you know," 'Jack chirped cheerfully, fingers just missing their hold on the little white bot as he ducked beneath the workbench. "Besides, the diagnostic takes a while to complete - might as well keep ourselves occupied!" He peered under the bench, grinning playfully at the sparkling hiding beneath.

"You've got fifteen sparklings - surely you've had plenty of time to get these strange urges out of your system!" He ducked further back against the wall, squeaking nervously when large fingers grazed his abdominal plating again.

Wheeljack chuckled softly, shifting to sit on the floor, flashing his fins at Skyfire. "My sparklings were all sparked in adult frames, you know, and the Dinobots were never exactly _cuddly_."

"I'm not cuddly!" the shuttle protested, offering a loud 'eep' when he was finally captured and pulled from hiding, snuggled close against warm chestplates. "Wheeljaaack…" The engineer only chortled delightedly, headfins flashing bright in amusement as his fingers sought out the round little abdomen again. Skyfire pushed them back, laughing nervously, kicking him away, "No, Wheeljack, don't - Please, don't." They both paused at the trill beeping from the machinery signaling the end of the diagnostic and Skyfire sighed in relief as he was set back down on the floor.

Wheeljack stood, dusting himself off in some semblance of returning to professionalism as he twisted the screen about to inspect the readings, optics scrolling across the glyphs as they rolled past on the report. 'Jack paused for a moment, then his optics brightened and he lifted his fists triumphantly. "I DIDN'T DO IT THIS TIME! AHAHA!" He nearly danced with glee. "It wasn't my fault! It was _sabotage_!" The beeping of the continued diagnostic report brought him down from his momentary high, earfins glowing a subdued, depressed blue before brightening. "Alright, _half_ my fault." He pounded his fist into the opposite palm, enthused. "_Progress_!"

"What does it say, Wheeljack?" Skyfire struggled to find a way to climb onto the workbench to see for himself.

"The virus is definitely in my energy field, and it was put there by," he held up a tiny, spiky ball from the diagnostic tray, "this implanted barb. I thought this looked peculiar - I didn't recognize it in my schematics. At first, I dismissed it as something that was just warped from the explosion, but when I got to looking at it, I realized what it was." He settled it back onto the table, dragging his fingers across the screen to pull up a section of the diagnostic. "From the looks of the coding, it was either Soundwave or Shockwave's design, meant to get into the very CNA coding of the victim's protoform and revert it back to its default specifications, which deletes most, if not all, traces of the virus in the process as it wasn't present as a part of the default settings."

"That… doesn't make any sense." Skyfire sulked, dragging the screen around to read it. "There's far too much proto-matter at our ages to just be… discarded like that."

"I believe the majority of your mass is being stored in subspace. All the sparklings have retained a decent amount, judging by the rather chubby protoforms you all possess, but the bulk of it was simply put into storage. Now, when the device exploded, the malignant coding penetrated my plating and infected me, _but_ because of my own firewalls and anti-invasive software, it never reached my CNA coding so I never showed any outward symptoms of infection - instead it seems to have either evolved or even _mutated_ from its original design so that it transfers through my energy field into others, explaining my earlier frustrations in finding the virus in the first place, but once they're infected, the victim is no longer contagious - only the original carrier can still transfer the virus into other mechs. What I can't figure out is why it doesn't affect their processors. Either it lost that ability in the mutation, or it was never designed to; and knowing the Decepticons they probably wanted the infected to suffer, knowing they were unable to stop them if they attacked."

Skyfire gave a soft nod of understanding, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck, kneading the cables there. "So how do we reverse the effects? And what if the protomatter isn't being stored in subspace? Then what - do we have to just… 'grow up' again?"

"I'm not sure… first, we need to keep the virus from spreading. Even if I find a solution for your condition, it won't do any good if you're simply re-infected once you're cured, now will it?"

"No, not exactly."

"I need to find a way to purge my magnetic field of the virus before I can attempt to fix the infected." Wheeljack sighed heavily, tapping away at the console, "Let's just hope that nobody _else_ gets--"

_Primus is mad at me for something_, Wheeljack decided, startled into a small leap, his hopeful musings interrupted by the ringing clamor of the laboratory doors being pounded on. The thick metal slabs trembled, slowly forming dents in large pockets along the surface.

"ME GRIMLOCK WANT STORY! HIM WHEELJACK TELL US DINOBOTS STORY NOW!" The whole lab shuddered with the reverberating boom of the blast doors being pounded upon, dented inward by the might of the T-Rex. Wheeljack bolted towards the door while Skyfire scampered beneath the workbench for cover - he was certainly not a mech to stand in the way of the brute of a mech that Grimlock could be when he wasn't getting his way, and he was definitely no match for the largest of the Dinos in his current form.

"Grimlock, you can't come in here!" Wheeljack pleaded through the doors - doors that only bent inward once more before being torn out of the way of the whole collective group, the overzealous bots stampeding their creator in a demanding cuddle. Wheeljack groaned aloud as he felt that tell-tale zing of pain from his struts to his servos as each Dinobot pressed in close, Swoop all but clinging to his chest in Pterodactyl form. Despite their massive strength, despite their somewhat stand-offish nature amongst the other bots, and despite, or maybe more so because of, their limited processing power, the Dinobots were still merely sparklings, 'Jack reminded himself with a resigned sigh. Sparklings that craved attention from their Creator from time to time - and after so many days locked away in his lab without so much as a 'hello' to any of them, they had gotten a bit antsy for their daily dose of fatherly affection.

So, buried beneath a happy pile of alt-mode Dinos, Wheeljack watched the minutes tick by on his chronometer. Skyfire let out a quiet, nervous giggle at the sight, reminding himself that it _wasn't_ funny, not at all, and now the Dinobots would be infected just the same as himself and the others.

"You Wheeljack tell us Dinobots story!" Grimlock demanded again, echoed enthusiastically by Swoop and Snarl, both nudging at the engineer insistently with their heads, Sludge only rubbed his long neck idly against 'Jack's shoulder, merely content with the attention from their Creator while Slag insisted on looking completely disinterested even while he scooted closer to the engineer's side.

Wheeljack heaved a sigh. "Alright… well… once upon a time, there were five mighty Dinobots and their rather clumsy creator…"

As the time ticked by beneath the large pile of bots, Wheeljack grew more and more anxious waiting for their complaints of pain and sickness. He stared each Dinobot in the optic, in turn, watching for any wincing or cringing or tell-tale signs of discomfort, but they only stared right back, blissfully unaware. After a full cycle, Wheeljack paused in his story repertoire and offered a soft 'huh'. Wiggling himself free of the clingy pile, he regarded the bots and tilted his head curiously, unable to fully contain a snicker as the move was echoed by three of the five. Even with such fierce temperaments and powerful alt modes, they were hardly more than sparklings…

Sparklings… they already _were_ sparklings… but _different_ from the other sparklings…

Wheeljack's fist shot into the air as he cried out, "EUREKA!" and briskly turned to scoop Skyfire out from under the bench, depositing him on top by the diagnostic scanner (decidedly ignoring Grimlock's indignant protest of "Me Grimlock no reeka! You Wheeljack reeka!"). "They weren't protoformed, Skyfire! The virus doesn't affect them! And neither was I - I was a Vector Sigma creation! That's why it changed, that's why it mutated!"

"Are you sure that's it? Are you sure it hasn't just… worn off?"

"No - No, I felt it. I felt it try to infect them, but nothing happened. Their basic structure is different than that of a protoformed sparkling, there's nothing there for that virus to change the same way it did on the others. So even though First Aid may have gotten close when pulling Ratchet off of me, he wasn't protoformed, so it never affected him!"

Skyfire regarded the Dinobots cautiously as they ambled closer to their suddenly enthusiastic creator. "Did it make them carriers as well? Will they infect the rest of the crew?"

Wheeljack spun around with his scanner and grabbed Swoop by the shoulder, steering him abruptly into the chair at the desk where the pterodactyl emitted a little squawk of surprise, but didn't protest - it wasn't the first time the gentler of the group had seen that over-bright shine of discovery in his Creator's optics and only squirmed a little when the beam of the scan swept over him, exciting the surface sensors of his alt mode. "Only one way to find out," the engineer chirped, rubbing affectionately at his sparkling's head, murmuring gentle praise to keep him in place, optics fixed on his scanner.

Grimlock was far less patient than Swoop, though, and had started demanding attention again, stomping his feet slightly to make the lab echo with the pounding footfalls, knowing better than to start yelling when his Creator was in a 'mood' such as this - it only took so many explosions to get through even _his_ thick head that distracting the engineer was a bad idea. "Me Grimlock want more story!" he all but whined, not at all happy with the fact that his subordinate was getting all the attention and praise… and pettings… and… oh, slag that Swoop. He huffed irritably and tried to climb onto the chair with his brother, nudging him to the side and nearly out. Wheeljack tried to tug him away gently, patting him idly on the nose, "No, Grimlock, not right now. I'm busy."

"But me Grimlock King! Me Grimlock help you Wheeljack - Not him Swoop help you Wheeljack!" The bot made for a comical sight - the big Dinosaur trying to balance on the chair that wobbled precariously beneath the massive feet while the smaller pterodactyl was trying to stay in the place he was being slowly but surely forced out of, Wheeljack's hand still on his head.

"Not now, Grimlock, you can help me later."

"ME GRIMLOCK HELP!"

"You can help by letting me scan Swoop, and then, once I'm done, I'll scan you - okay?"

Grimlock huffed, glowering at the engineer, but moved back off the chair and stalked back to the rest of his small group, his alt mode's short arms folded irately across his chest. "Him Swoop not better helper than me Grimlock…"

"You're a wonderful helper, Grimlock," 'Jack responded absently, scratching lightly at the underside of Swoop's beak, the smaller Dinobot's wings quivering happily at the touch. Skyfire giggled again, trying to muffle it with his hands. He'd never seen the big Dinobot outright _pouting_ before! Grimlock sat on the floor with his back turned on Wheeljack, arms crossed and optics narrowed, tail curled tightly around himself, rumbling unhappily.

"I never expected Grimlock to be so… desperate for your approval, 'Jack," Skyfire observed quietly after a moment.

Wheeljack sighed, then chuckled softly, briefly urging Swoop to transform into his root mode. "Ever since the Aerialbots came along, they've been sort of jealous of their 'siblings', and once the Protectobots were sparked it became an all-out war to them to see who got the most attention."

"So…" Skyfire pretended to mull it over for a moment, a grin spreading across his faceplates, "when you and Bluestreak finally Bond, are they going to call him 'Mommy'?" The little shuttle shrieked, scrambling off the workbench to avoid the engineer's reaching servos.

* * *

_**A/N:** Forgive me, the thought of Optimus watching Sesame Street was too funny to me to pass up._


	7. Fallen Flyer

"HOW COULD YOU LET HIM DO THIS TO ME?!" The shrill shriek resonated again throughout the throne room, making both bots in attendance cringe openly at the pitch. Megatron examined the tips of his servos momentarily, rubbing away a bit of flaking paint from one of his subordinates with a thumb, slumped down in his chair with a bored sigh before returning his gaze to the enraged seeker before him - which prompted an amused smirk. The red and white fledgling was stamping his peds, his hands clenched tightly at his sides, soft faceplates flushed dark with Energon, glowing pink in anger - Megatron could nearly see the steam rising from his audios and forced down a chuckle at the thought. "I AM THE AIR COMMANDER! I AM THE SECOND IN COMMAND!" the seekerlet continued to wail, pacing restlessly back and forth in front of the throne. "AND YET YOU LET YOUR… Your… **WEIRD LITTLE PET** USE ME AS SOME SORT OF…" he paused, hands coming together as though he could strangle the imaginary object between them, "GLITCH MOUSE FOR EXPERIMENTATION! YOU LET HIM LOCK ME IN MY OWN LAB AND DO **THIS** TO ME!"

"Soundwave needed a test subject and you just happened to be the idiot that caught my ire, Starscream." Megatron's retort was far softer and calmer than the seeker would have liked - entertainment did a number on the Warlord's infamously short temper. "Besides," he waved a careless, dismissive hand, "it's not as though it killed you."

"AND WHAT IF IT HAD?!" The aforementioned tape-deck lowered the volume on his audios, wincing again at the piercing shrieks the little bot could emit. "WHAT IF IT HAD KILLED ME?! THEN WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE WITH NO ONE YOUR TROOPS ACTUALLY RESPECT TO LEAD THEM?!" Either not noticing the slightly darkened gaze the silver mech bestowed upon him, or too far gone in his ranting to care, he pressed on. "NOT TO MENTION THAT THIS IS, BY FAR, THE ABSOLUTE **STUPIDEST** PLAN YOU'VE HAD YET! AND - SURPRISE, SURPRISE - **IT DIDN'T EVEN WORK**!"

"Negative," Soundwave responded, causing the small bot to flinch as though struck and turn his glowing, hateful gaze onto the tape-deck, trembling in fury. "Virus implantation: Successful."

"And how would you know," Starscream sneered, planting his hands on his pelvic plating as he regarded the blue mech, hips jaunted to the left - Soundwave almost laughed at the familiar cocky pose, duplicated in miniature. "Our reports say that the patrols have seen nothing but adult mechs in their surveillance of the perimeters - they have seen no evidence of your virus working!"

"Viral barb logged its activation approximately thirty-nine hours ago, local Terran time."

"THEN WHERE ARE THEY?!" The seekerlet stomped his way up the throne's dais to glare up at Soundwave, poking him on the shin plating. "I DEMAND TO SEE PROOF THAT YOUR STUPID IDEA ACTUALLY WORKED - BECAUSE, SO FAR, I HAVEN'T SEEN ANYTHING TO INDICATE THAT ANYONE OTHER THAN **ME** HAS ACTUALLY BEEN AFFECTED!"

Megatron offered another bored sigh, tilting only his head to gaze at the sparkling that was now to the side of his throne, harassing his acting-SIC. "Soundwave has a far more successful track record than you do, Starscream; but, if it will shut you up, I shall dispatch Ravage to bring you some evidence. I, too, am anxious to see the effects of this virus, Soundwave."

"Affirmative, Lord Megatron. I will dispatch Ravage, as commanded."

"You see, Starscream," Megatron crooned lightly towards the fledgling, "that is how my subordinates are _supposed_ to act - to do as they are told without question or complaint, to be respectful. You are neither of these things - and that is why you are punished instead of getting goodies like the good little sparklings." Megatron smirked slightly at the fuming little mech, even going so far as to take an Energon goodie from his subspace and hand it to Soundwave. "You have done well, Soundwave - have a treat."

Starscream sputtered indignantly at that, watching with bright, angry (and slightly jealous) optics as Soundwave took the offered goodie with an exaggerated show of polite thanks. "YOU HAVE NO PROOF THAT HE'S DONE WELL! DON'T REWARD HIM FOR THEORIES!"

"Use your 'inside voice', Starscream," Megatron chided, snickering slightly to himself.

"THIS PRAISE IS PREMATURE! HE HAS DONE NOTHING THAT DESERVES REWARD!" The little seeker stomped his pedes, flailing his arms theatrically, optics welling with fluid.

"All this over an Energon goodie? My, my, Starscream, if I didn't know any better, I might think you were envious of Soundwave getting attention over you." The Warlord grabbed the seeker by the wing, wrenching a shrill cry of discomfort from the little bot as he was hoisted up and dangled at optic-level. "You will be rewarded when you have done something of merit, Seeker. Until then, I suggest you stop your sniveling before the novelty of your new form has worn off and I grow impatient with you." The wing was released and the little mech bounced slightly on his aft as he fell onto a large silver thigh before being quickly brushed off to the floor - _Dusted off his lap like crumbs!_ he fumed, glowering up at the two adult mechs through teary optics, scrubbing roughly at them with his wrists, vents hitching slightly at the smarting sensation from his fall. Megatron groaned - a low, guttural sound that may have even been a growl - and rolled his optics towards the tape-deck. "Oh Primus, he's going to cry. Get the little brat out of my sight, Soundwave."

"Affirmative, Lord Megatron." Starscream tried to scramble away from the larger mech, but Soundwave quickly snatched him by the scruff of his neck and cradled him against the glass of his chest plate, stroking the previously pinched little wing to calm the flighty little seeker.

"Thundercracker will be acting as my Air Commander now, Starscream," Megatron added lightly, almost as an afterthought. "We can't have that fool Skywarp in charge, after all…"

"You can't send Thundercracker out into battle with my troops!" he protested, struggling against the telepath's soothing petting. "The trine is incomplete without me! You… You can't just _leave_ me like this!" He whirled around to poke hard at Soundwave's chestplates. "There's an antidote! I know you made one! Give it to me NOW!"

"Antidote: does not currently exist."

Starscream gaped openly at the blue mech for a long moment, so long that Megatron wondered briefly if his CPU had crashed, but immediately dismissed it as something he didn't really care about. Then, suddenly, he returned to function. "**WHAT?!** You… you didn't… YOU DIDN'T MAKE AN ANTIDOTE?!"

"Virus: differs in function on each victim's coding. Universal antidote: impossible to synthesize."

Starscream gawked at the glowing red visor, tears welling swiftly in his optics to spill down his reddened cheeks, vents hiccupping suddenly. "You… you mean… I… you didn't… make… I… I'm…" His incomprehensible babble rose in pitch the longer he tried to string together a coherent sentence, but he soon gave up completely and started to sob, wailing loudly, clawing at the glass plating of Soundwave's chest with tiny servos. Megatron growled aloud, slumping further into his throne, kneading his forehead with his fingertips. "I told you to get him out of here…"

"Affirmative, Lord Megatron." Soundwave cradled the crying sparkling against his chest as he left the throne room, tracing gentle fingers over the tiny helm and wings. The halls were empty for the moment, which only allowed the despairing seeker's wails to bounce off the scratched and dented metal walls and echo down the corridor, amplifying the noise to an _almost _intolerable degree - with six sparklings of his own, he was well accustomed to tantrums far more noisy than this, especially when one of the twins set the other off with him. Tantrums in stereo were never a pleasant experience, considering the possibility of affecting the other younger cassettes along their sibling bonds. He probed lightly at the sparkling's mind - an emotional whirlpool of hatred and despair greeted his curiosity, which only churned faster and more intensely as the little seeker dwelled on his current situation: he'd lost his rank, his troops, the respect and fear of his subordinates - he feared _them_ now, small and helpless, even flightless, and the beginnings of sky hunger were gnawing at the edges of his processor just thinking about it, though drowned by the horrid pangs in the depths of his tank as it grew more unsettled the longer and harder he cried. Starscream thrashed his legs madly, striking weakly at the large blue mech that cradled him, prompting Soundwave to shift his grasp and cradle the fledgling on his back in the crook of his arm, rubbing a fingertip against the glass of his cockpit to try and offer some comfort to the shaking little form in his arms.

Soundwave marveled momentarily at the little bot's persistence when they arrived at his own quarters - the whole long walk down to the living quarters and the seekerlet had neither quieted nor purged his fuel tanks, though judging by the unhappy gurgling noises he could faintly hear beneath the wailing, that second part was not much further away from becoming a reality if he couldn't get the sparkling settled down.

"I…I…" Starscream gasped hard between sobs, his own tears choking his attempts at speech. "I … Want… My… Trine! I… Want… My… Room!" The tiny legs thrashed harder, vents hiccupping and hissing as they struggled to cool the sparkling's systems, internal fans whirring noisily.

"Negative," Soundwave intoned quietly. "Seeker trine: unavailable. Skywarp: not an acceptable sparkling-sitter."

"Then… I… I want… Thun-…der… cr-cracker…"

"Negative: Thundercracker currently engaged in briefing his troops." Starscream flinched visibly at that announcement, burrowing his face against his own arms with a renewed intensity to his cries. The telepath settled onto his berth with the sparkling, glancing around briefly at the cassettes present in his quarters - only Laserbeak and Buzzsaw were there, curled up against each other and glaring at the noisy little _thing_ that had disturbed their peaceful nap - before reclining back against the wall, settling the little seeker belly-down against the glass of his chestplates and searched through his repertoire for something soft and light-hearted to soothe the distraught Starscream.

"_You would not believe your eyes, if ten million fireflies lit up the world as I fell asleep, 'cause they'd fill the open air and leave teardrops everywhere. You'd think me rude but I would just stand and stare…_" Soundwave offered a satisfied rumble when the harsh sobs softened, the low bass and percussion sending light vibrations from his speakers straight into the sparkling's chassis, gentle fingertips stroking along his back and shivering wings.

"_'Cause I'd get a thousand hugs from ten thousand lightning bugs as they tried to teach me how to dance. A foxtrot above my head, a sock hop beneath my bed, a disco ball that's just hanging by a thread…_" Starscream snuffled noisily, rubbing his optics against his wrists and offered a short, soft giggle at the lyrics. Soundwave watched the seeker quietly as his cycling steadied out, even lightly rocking his head side to side with the beat of the music. Soundwave looped the track and by the end of the song's repetition, Starscream had calmed and was even humming along quietly, staring dazedly at the far wall of the Third in Command (now Second)'s quarters, gaze wandering unfocused around that side of the room. Various odd belongings were scattered about, sections of the floor partitioned off by things belonging to the particular cassette that had lain claim to that space. Video games and small gaming consoles sat piled high in the corner, balanced precariously even with two sides to support it, a few blankets and pillows for comfort, each tailored to preference. There was a veritable mountain of pillows in the other corner, most of them ripped and the cotton filling spilling out from them onto the pile at the bottom. The walls were decorated closer to the floor with holophotos in silver frames, but remained bare of decor higher up, instead housing wide shelves where other such 'nests' had been built and belongings tucked away simply to be kept from getting broken beneath the telepath's massive feet. Just because he could read minds didn't mean he was _psychic_ and would automatically know that Ratbat had left his current favorite toy on the floor during recharge.

"Why are you doing this?" Starscream questioned quietly after a while. "Just rubbing it in my face, I suppose… You probably think I deserve this - to be stripped of my rank, to be… to be humiliated like this… you're going to kill me, aren't you… laugh at me and then kill me…" He lowered his head down onto the glass plating, shuttering his optics for a moment with a resigned sigh, "Megatron won't even care… he'll probably give you another slagging Energon goodie for doing it…" Soundwave didn't reply to the sparkling's questions, only rubbing a little more insistently at the space between his wings. Starscream's wings began to droop, slowly relaxing under the caress, voice lowering to a murmur. "I know you think I deserve this… you're always so torque'd off whenever Megatron lets me live… I rather wonder about that myself, honestly… But now you're getting your oil cake and eating it too, aren't you…" Optic shutters began to slide slowly closed, then open again, the small seeker struggling to fight back his impending recharge.

"Resistance: futile. Recharge cycle: imminent." Starscream groaned softly at the announcement, and at the horrid pun within, rubbing his optics stubbornly to stay online, but soon his hands stilled, still covering his face, curled into loose fists as his vents heaved a small sigh and his systems shifted, cycling down to a lower gear. Soundwave offered a short chuckle as the sparkling nodded off, idly teasing the edges of the tiny wings that flicked and twitched in response, leaning back against the wall and shuttering his optics. It'd been quite some time since he'd held a sparkling in such a way, either his own or others'. His cassettes had grown quite self-sufficient right beneath his olfactory sensor, no longer keen on cuddling up for naptime with their creator in such a manner, opting to stay with one another or simply remain transformed within the tape deck. Soundwave felt a small tug of guilty indulgence as though he'd snatched the last Energon goodie for himself as he cradled the sleeping fledgling higher on his chest, tucking the black helm beneath his chin, slowly stroking along the sparkling's back. Come to think of it, it'd been quite some time since he'd indulged in naptime for himself at all now that the cassettes rarely drew so heavily on his energy as they had during their first vorns of life… what was the harm in pretending that the sparkling cradled in his arms was his own, just for a little while? Starscream certainly needn't know - for all he knew it was simply in the programming of a Creator to care for all sparklings in such a manner, after all.

An optic unshuttered at a peculiar noise disturbing his thoughts, glancing down at the tiny form on his chest where Starscream rested soundly with his servos in his mouth, nearly his entire hand being suckled on, systems idling in a soft, contented purr. Soundwave offered a small, unseen smile, and closed his shutters once more, resting back for a short nap, casually entertaining the thought of who else might make a decent 'test subject'.

--

The chime of the door startled the little seeker awake, jolting against the flat chestplates, optics bright but shutters struggling to remain open, head drooping back down almost as soon as it had been lifted. Soundwave pulled himself to his peds with the sparkling cradled against his shoulder, rubbing soothingly at the little wings when the second chime caused him to jerk again. Starscream blearily regarded the two blue mechs when the door slid open, optics too unfocused to properly identify the visitor, shutters sliding closed once more as his head slumped sleepily down onto the telepath's shoulder.

Thundercracker regarded Soundwave with something vaguely akin to disdain, calmly offering an expectant hand. "I've come to reclaim my trine-mate."

"Negative: Sparkling is to remain here." Soundwave ran gentle fingertips over the dark helm, eliciting a sleepy little purr from the fledgling, smirking beneath his mask as the blue flier tensed, wings giving an anxious twitch, optics narrowing just slightly. "Soundwave: only mech aboard the _Nemesis_ properly suited to care for Sparklings."

"You cannot keep him from us, Soundwave - the Trine is a sacred bond, he needs to be with us now." Thundercracker's hand remained outstretched, awaiting the tiny bundle where his optics were fixed, carefully watching as Soundwave's large hands caressed the delicate little figure. Soundwave could feel the seeker's unease with his possession of the fledgling, the surface sensation of worry merging on fear each time his hands passed over the delicate wings or lingered too long on the dark helm. With a malicious and unseen grin, the telepath slowly wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the slumbering sparkling's throat, keeping his grip loose, but watching the expression on the blue flier's face twitch and contort ever-so-slightly as his grip began to tighten until the edges of his fingers touched the tiny cabling, feeling the swift pulsing of energy. Soundwave prodded lightly at the other's thoughts, catching the sharp bite of outright fear for his diminutive trine-mate racing across Thundercracker's processor as those fingers tightened just slightly, the littlest of uncomfortable whimpers escaping the sparkling, but before Soundwave could delve any deeper, the mech had thrown up his firewalls, blocks, and mental defenses, effectively shutting out the tape deck with a cold glare. "Give him to me, Soundwave." Thundercracker calmly brought up his other arm, leveling the sights of his weapon pointedly in front of Soundwave's visor, his still-waiting hand reaching slightly closer to the whimpering red and white seekerlet. "Now."

Soundwave's fingers released their grip on the tiny throat, easing the still-sleeping sparkling back onto his shoulder, before reaching out to pinch the narrow barrel of the null-ray aimed at his faceplates and move it aside. The exchange between the two was slow and calm, neither seeming to be unsettled by the other, though Thundercracker obviously feared for the safety of the fledgling seeker cradled against the acting Second-in-Command's shoulder and Soundwave had no real desire to goad the blue flier on the same way he did to Starscream - whereas the Air Commander would scream and rant and be at least mildly entertaining when his feathers were ruffled, Thundercracker remained annoyingly calm in most situations, keeping his slanderous dialogue internal and only offering an increasingly miffed (not even _angry_) glare to the offending mech before he shot them. For a moment longer, the two regarded one another quietly until Soundwave emitted something that might have been a chuckle beneath the monotone filter of his vocal processor and extended the slumbering little mech towards its fellow Seeker. "Starscream: allowed to recharge with Seekers, will remain with Soundwave during daily shift cycles."

Thundercracker cradled the little form to his chest and gave a terse nod, spinning abruptly on his heel turbine and marching down the corridor without so much as a 'good night' to the telepath. Soundwave laughed lightly to himself, turning back to his berth to stretch out, opening his tape deck for the two avian cassettes to settle in for the night while he waited for the twins and sent a ping to Ravage to check his progress.

It wasn't until he was safely locked within his own quarters that Thundercracker allowed himself a sigh of relief, shifting the little bundle in his arms to gaze at the dark faceplates, lightly tracing the soft curve of Starscream's cheek with the back of his finger. Skywarp looked up from his awkward perch on his berth where he sat with one leg folded beneath him, the other twisted around nearly to the breaking point to see his heel turbines for some light maintenance, but at Thundercracker's appearance he swiftly unfolded himself and bound from the berth to inspect the sparkling in his wingmate's arms. "So it really _did_ happen…"

"It wasn't exactly a well-kept secret, Sky," the blue Seeker regarded the other with one optic ridge aloft. "He's been like this for nearly two full Terran days."

"Well you know how gossip gets exaggerated," he shrugged, grinning. "I figured that since I hadn't seen him, then he was probably dead."

Thunder offered a derisive snort. "You would have known, without a doubt, if he were dead, Skywarp…"

"Dead; stasis; cold storage - all kinda the same thing." Skywarp moved to take the slumbering Starscream from his trinemate's arms, only to have his hands brushed away, Thundercracker shifting to put his shoulder protectively between the sparkling and the teleporter. He pouted openly at the mech, arms reaching imploringly, "I wanna hold him, TC."

"No, you'll drop him."

"I will not! I'll be really careful!"

"No, Skywarp."

"But Thundeeeercrackeeeeeer…" Skywarp whined, following the blue Seeker around their quarters, right on his heels, despite the other's attempts to evade him.

"Stop it, Sky, you'll wake him up."

"C'mon, _please?_ Please, TC, please?"

"Skywarp, leave him alone," Thundercracker twisted around to avoid the violet Seeker's grasping hands again, reaching back to push him lightly away. "You had better not wake him up or I'll have you running drills by yourself for a solid lunar cycle."

"…You would not." Skywarp hesitantly denied, uncertain of the strength of the threat with Thundercracker's sudden, perhaps temporary, promotion.

"I absolutely would - we have no idea how he's taking this and the longer the peace lasts, the better."

"I'll be really careful with him, TC. I promise!" Skywarp clasped his hands together just beneath his chin, staring sadly up at his trine-mate with wide, shining optics. Thundercracker stood resolutely for only a klick before his expression twitched and his shoulders slumped, cycling heavily through his vents.

"Alright," he groaned, shifting the sleeping sparkling carefully to hand him off to Skywarp. "Just one thing: if you're going to tickle him until he lubricates like you did when we were fledglings, do it on your _own_ berth - not mine."

Skywarp snickered, flopping down onto his berth with the little flyer cradled in his arms. "He's so cute when he's not screeching," he cooed, rubbing tenderly at the warm faceplates with the tip of his finger. "I wonder if he'll be chewing his servos in his recharge again or if he's still 'outgrown' it."

Thundercracker inspected the tiny fingers closely, smirking at the sheen of dried oral fluids coating them. "He's eating his hands again. He always favored the left for some reason." He chuckled, smoothing a palm affectionately across Starscream's helm. "He was so cute when we were sparklings - wonder where it went wrong?" Heaving a wistful sigh, Thundercracker settled onto the berth next to Skywarp, leaning shoulder-to-shoulder with the teleporter.

"He has to stay with Soundwave during the day cycles," TC rumbled irritably after some time. "He can recharge with us but he stays with Soundwave while we're on shift."

Skywarp frowned slightly, cradling Starscream closer. "Will he hurt him, do you think?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, lowering his head. "I don't trust the slagger at all, much less with Star in such a state…"

Skywarp tilted the squirming sparkling to rest on his shoulder, stroking soothingly along his wings. "Should we get a cot for him?"

Thundercracker considered for a moment and then stood, walking to the opposite side of the berth and shoved it until it slid, screeching across to bump against its mate, Skywarp jerking his legs out of the way in the process. "No, we'll keep him with us."

Both bots flinched at the whimpering sparkling slowly coming online from the noise, dim crimson optics tilting up to regard the two seekers. Skywarp grinned at the fledgling, lifting him up to nuzzle noses, "Hi there, Screamer."

Starscream stared blankly at the two forms while his optics struggled to focus, slowly brightening as he glanced around. Thundercracker frowned slightly, kneeling to tilt the sparkling's head and catches his wandering gaze. "Star? Do you know where you are?"

Starscream nodded slowly, rubbing his optics against his wrists. "Uh huh…"

"And where's that?"

"Your quarters…"

Thundercracker nodded, smiling softly. "That's right. How are you feeling?"

"Hungry…" A little yawn followed the answer, head slumping back down against Skywarp's chest. "And tired…"

"Well he _seems_ calm," Skywarp muttered, lightly scratching between the tiny wings with the tips of his fingers.

"He seems… dazed," Thundercracker concluded, tilting Starscream's head again to study the sleepy optics. "Star? Do you know what's happened to you…?"

"Yeah…"

"And how do you feel about that?"

"…I dunno…"

"You don't know?" Thunder exchanged glances with Skywarp, lips twisted into a pensive frown.

"No… I rather thought I'd be an adult again once I was in the Matrix… oh well, I guess…At least it didn't hurt when I deactivated…" Starscream heaved a little sigh and snuggled into the warmth offered by his trinemate's arms. "Mmm… comfy…"

The two adult seekers stared for a moment before Skywarp snorted a laugh, giggling softly. "He thinks he's dead, TC."

"So it would appear." He tilted the sparkling's head to catch the sleepy gaze, idly rubbing the warm cheekplates. "Starscream, you're not in the Matrix."

"Hmm…?" The dim optics regarded the blue seeker for a moment before they darkened again, head slumping into the hand caressing it. Thundercracker heaved a sigh, giving him a little shake to wake him back up. When that failed to stir the slumbering seekerlet, Skywarp offered a grin towards Thundercracker and twisted on the berth, stretching out his legs and making himself comfortable on the padded surface, and then unceremoniously dumped Starscream onto his aft between his knees.

"FRELLING PIT-SPAWNED SLAGGER!" The startled mechling shot to his feet, swearing a blue streak at the black seeker, arms waving theatrically as he screeched out the many horrible things he would do to Skywarp in retribution. Said seeker only grinned amicably down at the infuriated sparkling while he ranted, optics clenched shut with the sheer force of his shrieking.

Thundercracker managed to startle him into silence again when he swept him up off the berth and gave him a quick toss into the air. Starscream shook a miniscule fist and offered a few more threats as TC continued to toss him lightly, cooing at him as he came back down, cradling him momentarily before he was airborne again. Star's threats faltered with a snort, the mini-jet's ranting replaced with squealing laughter each time he was thrown, giggling madly against a blue shoulder as Thunder settled onto the berth to sprawl on his back, wings spread comfortably behind him. He lifted the chortling sparkling up with a smirk, regarding the fledgling for a moment. "Feel better?"

The hysterical laughter calmed into breathless giggles, vents panting gently as he nodded. He stared at Thundercracker as he calmed, the calm merging into a frown as he mulled over his situation, "If I kill Soundwave for this indignity, are you going to be angry with me?"

TC offered a surprised blink, refreshing his optics quickly, and canted his head thoughtfully to the side. "I don't suppose so."

Starscream grinned, nodding firmly. "Then yes, I feel much better."

--

Soundwave was a little surprised to discover the near-narcoleptic nature of seeker sparklings. Seekers tended to burn a great deal of energy just to function on a day-to-day basis and it seemed to continue to be true for them as sparklings despite their flight systems being inactive; unfortunately, the sparklings lacked the sort of stamina and energy reserves of their adult counterparts. Starscream was off and on like someone tossing a switch, dropping immediately into recharge mid-speech only to online again less than a full cycle later full charge, sometimes picking up right where he left off. If it wasn't so slagging funny to watch him flop across the tape deck's arm like a limp doll in the middle of an impressive rant, he might have been concerned for the fledgling's health.

The first shift cycle with Starscream in his care was becoming a chore during the waking moments of the sparkling's wrath. Starscream kicked and bit and screeched as much as he could within the tape deck's firm grasp and Soundwave dismayed just slightly at the distinct lack of scruff bar on the seeker design due to the sweeping wings making the back of his neck all but inaccessible to his large fingers. He did find, however, that dangling the seeker by an ankle to be just as effective as the hold of the scruff bar - while seekers needed to fly to preserve their sanity as much as their enjoyment, falling was not something most of them enjoyed and hanging upside-down for an extended period of time did seem to calm even Starscream's flailing and swearing. All in all, he chuckled to himself, he rather enjoyed tormenting the fledgling flyer while he was awake and cuddling the little bundle when he was offline. Starscream never seemed to shirk an opportunity to tuck himself under Soundwave's chin when he recharged, a fact that Rumble was starting to dislike with great intensity.

The first good mood he'd experienced in a long time, he allowed himself a satisfied grin beneath his mask at Ravage's ping, alerting the _Nemesis_ of his return and requesting for the tower to rise. "Lord Megatron," he announced, idly tracing circles on the back of Starscream's helm as he slept, "Ravage has returned to base. Operation: Successful."

Megatron grinned, steepling his fingers as he leaned back in his throne with an air of lazy victory. "Wonderful, Soundwave." A low, dark chuckle rumbled its way from his chest. "Have him deposit our little guest here so that we might… welcome him to his new residence." He settled his ped across his knee, relaxing into his seat with a smug grin.

The door slid open to admit the panther, and Megatron chuckled again at the struggling sparkling in the cassette's maw.

* * *

_**A/N:** AND NOW I NEED YOUR INPUT! _

_**WHO DID RAVAGE BRING HOME?** We'll be doing a bit of backtracking next chapter as far as chronological order goes so lemme know which sparkling should be getting the welcome in either reviews or poll or both! I'll be closing the poll on Saturday, Feb 20.  
_

_I wuv you guys~ _

_Oh! And follow me on LJ! Link on my profile~  
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